Aranel
by RacheKnowsNoEnd
Summary: Aranel is a wanderer with a few tricks up his sleeve. He shows up in Winterfell, just before Jon Snow is to depart, and swears to protect the young future member of the night watch, no matter the odds or the risk to Aranel himself. How will this affect what the future has in store for Jon? (This will be a slash story with my OMC in it, eventual Jon/OMC - slow burn.)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Aranel leaned heavily on his staff, his satchel bumping in a familiar, comforting rhythm as he walked through the lands of the north. He had been waiting for a long time for this moment and now that it was within his grasp, he had traveled too quickly in the harsh terrain for fear of arriving too late. He knew time was of the essence for soon bags would be packed and the one he searched for would leave to begin the rocky path fate has laid out for him. Aranel must catch him before then, no matter if his body felt as though it would collapse any moment. He had been through worse and worse was yet to come. Winter was coming.

When the sun fell in the sky, cloaking the land before him in darkness, Aranel traveled only an hour more before stopping and making camp. After a restless night, filled with odd dreams and dancing shadows, Aranel once again continues on his journey. It was only four hours later that he saw destination before him; Winterfell, where Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North, resides along with his family. Aranel had no use for Starks, however, and thought carefully how to go about how to approach the man he had been searching for. After thinking for the rest of the walk and coming up with nothing convincing, Aranel hoped that something would come to him in the moment that he presented himself. A simple trick allowed him to pass through the gates unnoticed, his hood drawn and hiding his features from curious eyes, the only notable thing about him was the six foot staff he carried. The staff itself was his most prized possession, it was carved from Aspen wood with the blunt ends being obsidian, or dragonglass as some call it. The staff appeared to have vines detailed into the wood, climbing up the staff from both ends where the obsidian ended and Aspen wood began, leaving only the middle bare and smooth for an easy place to hold. It had seen Aranel out of many a bad situation and was far sturdier than it looked, a fact that most who were unfortunate enough to find out did not live long to tell.

Aranel kept the hood of his black cloak drawn to hide his hair mainly, which was a silver color that was not normal among Westeros. His features had often been described as androgynous, his face fair enough to be that of a womans but with a strong jaw; Many who had seen Aranel first assumed he was a woman until he opened his mouth to speak. It was something he had long ago learned to ignore, but it made him easy to pick out of a crowd, so when he needed to go about business without bringing notice, remaining covered had proven to be the most sound strategy. Aranel learned that King Robert Baratheon had arrived only a couple of hours prior to himself and that there would be a feast in his honor tonight. Aranel hoped that this would be distraction enough for him to find his query and do what he needed too.

With nothing to do but bide his time, Aranel walked along the streets and listened to what gossip he could among the townsfolk. Many of them were speaking about deserters from the Night's Watch that had been executed by Lord Eddard and there was talk about the Stark children having found and adopted direwolves to raise as companions. This piqued Aranel's interest but no one seemed to know anything worthwhile on the subject so he moved on fairly quickly. After two hours of wandering, Aranel found himself in Winter Town in order to find lodgings for the night before returning to Winterfell later that night to find the one he was searching for. Renting a room out for the night was easy enough, Aranel had enough gold to stay in town for as long as a month if he needed too before money would be a problem.

After the sun had set and Aranel knew the feast would be underway, he slipped into Winterfell using the same trick on the guards as he had earlier that day and sat atop a building watching as the man he had spent a year waiting for attacked a dummy with rage and carelessness, although there was skill buried beneath the attacks; most likely the practicing being done tonight was to relieve stress instead of hone skills. Aranel watched him for a time, trying to get a measure of the man before he approached him and did what he had come here to do. He watched from his perch as a dwarf spoke with him for a prolonged period, informing the younger man practicing that he should wear his title of 'bastard' openly like an armor. It was a result of cynicism bred from constant belittling and being made to feel inferior to others. Aranel could see how such advice was something the dwarf would give but he disagreed with it all the same. True, you should not let what others call you penetrate your skin, but you could change your fate so they remembered you as something other than bastard or dwarf. To change your fate and become something different, something more. When Tyrion Lannister, for that was the name of the dwarf who had been speaking with his query, left that was when Aranel climbed down from where he had been crouched in the bruising darkness and silently made his way towards the 'bastard' of Ned Stark.

"I wonder if you might help me." Aranel called out softly, watching passively as the man before with thick, black curly hair whirled around to face him with his sword in hand. Aranel admired his form for a moment, the master of arms had trained him well.

"What kind of help do you seek?" He asked, eyebrows drawn together as he took in the cloaked figure without lowering his weapon. It spoke of caution, which would serve him well in the coming future, so Aranel was glad to see he was cautious even within the keep he called home.

"I am searching for someone." Aranel replied, staying where he was but leaning some of his weight on his staff. Onyx eyes watched, analyzing the staff and most likely deeming it a threat, because the sword stayed raised with fingers firmly gripped around its handle.

"Why do you keep your hood drawn and who is it you are looking for?" was the terse reply, and Aranel smiled briefly before wiping the expression off of his face and lowering his hood to reveal the shockingly silver hair that fell straight to his shoulders, only two portions from his temples were pulled back and tied loosely to keep hair from obscuring his vision.

"Jon Snow." Aranel said, his pale green eyes watching as the man tensed.

"Why do you seek Jon Snow?" The young man before him asked, his eyes narrowing and fingers tightening his grip on the sword. Aranel wanted to chuckle but felt it was not appropriate for the situation, so instead relaxed his stance into the most non threatening position he could manage.

"I have come to help him, although he may not know that he needs it yet." Aranel responded, purposely vague. It had the desired reaction from Jon Snow because his eyebrows rose and his stance relaxed by a fraction, sword only lowering the tiniest amount, but it still spoke volumes to one versed in the language of bodies.

"I am Jon Snow." He said, straightening his back a little as he confirmed what Aranel already knew.

"Indeed." Aranel commented, knowing his face reflected the amusement that had seeped into his voice. This was the tricky part because it was the pinnacle point of the conversation, it was where Aranel must convince Jon Snow to allow him to accompany the bastard to wherever his feet may carry him.

"How do you believe you could help me and with what do you think I need help with, exactly?" Jon asked, his voice betraying the curiosity he felt as he looked upon the person in front of him. Aranel could feel Jon's eyes as they examined the silver hair that almost glowed in the courtyards meager lighting, pale eyes that were staring back into onyx orbs, and then the fair skin and angular features that made up Aranel's face.

"Would you follow me?" Aranel asked lightly, gesturing in the direction he wanted to go.

"Follow you where?" Jon asked, immediately suspicious of the man's intentions.

"The Godswood. I feel it is a more appropriate setting for a conversation such as this." Aranel replied, face serene as he gazed around Winterfell's keep. He noticed Jons hesitation and his lips quirked up in amusement. "You may bring the sword, if you desire. I admit it would be foolish to accompany a stranger to a secluded area although you have my word that no harm will befall you."

Jon hesitated only a moment more, watching as Aranel walked almost soundlessly across the keep towards the direction of the Godswood. Jon, sheathing the sword but keeping his hand on the hilt for quick access, followed the man curiously. Aranel was silent, passing through the path to his intended destination as sure footed as Jon was himself, making him wonder how he knew where to go. Jon did not remember ever seeing the man before, he would remember such distinct features, so had he been the Winterfell before Jon was old enough to remember? It seemed impossible considering the silver-haired man could not be more than a couple of years Jon's senior if at all.

"Is it not fair you give me your name since you know mine?" Jon asked, breaking the silence just as the Godswood came into sight.

"Aranel. I have no last name." Aranel replied softly, his voice barely carrying on the night's wind back to Jon's ears. It was a strange name, one that felt foreign on Jon's tongue and did not arouse any sort of familiarity in his memory. Jon watched as Aranel came upon the heart tree and kneeled before it, reverence and respect almost tangible in the air as he did so. Aranel stayed knelt down, his head bowed, before standing and facing Jon with an enigmatic look on his face.

"Why have you brought me here?" Jon asked, his voice lacking any sort of emotion besides the curiosity that was making his mind swim.

"I felt it a wise decision for many reason. The first being it is secluded and away from both prying eyes and ears. The second, is that I am comfortable here and the old gods are part of the reason why I have sought you out." Aranel answered readily, his eyes firmly on Jon's own. "The third reason is because oaths taken before the weirwood are, as I am sure you are aware, binding."

"What oath would you have me take?" Jon asked, immediately on edge at the mention of Oath's.

"I do not want you to swear an oath but to bear witness to one." Aranel corrected reassuringly, laying his staff down before the tree. "I do not know what path the old gods have placed you on, only that it is one that I have been tasked with following you down. I do not wish to go into depth too much until I know you better, but I tell you this because it is relevant to what I ask of you next. If you allow me to accompany, I will swear an oath here and know with you and the Old Gods as witnesses that I shall not harm you, allow any harm to befall you, or those you order me to protect as long as I still draw breath."

"I-" Jon was speechless, staring at the man who stood proudly before him and asked to.. What? Serve him as a bodyguard? "Is this a jest of some sort?"

"No, Jon Snow." Aranel replied, frowning. "I do not jest with you at all. It is what I desire above all else, it is the purpose that has guided me here and placed me before you. If you would allow it, all of my skills will be yours to use as you see fit. My purpose in life will be to protect yours, even if it means my death. I swear there are no ulterior motives, no selfish motivations, no one but the gods have urged me to come here today. They have whispered in my ear and given me purpose, and that purpose is to protect your life so you may carry out the actions you must in the future."

"I am not a lord who can have vassals. I have no great destiny or task to undertake. I am going to join the Night Watch where they will view me as more than the bastard of Ned Stark. This..this doesn't make any sense." Jon said, confusement prominent in his face. "I don't know why you think this of me, but at the wall, all men are equal and I can't bring a.. A bodyguard with me."

"The Wall always has need for able bodied soldiers and I am more so than most. I would not be a burden or a servant, but someone who I hope you may come to trust. I just ask that you allow me to serve my purpose." Aranel countered, moving forward slowly towards Jon who watched as his face turned to one of pleading as he knelt before Jon. "Please, allow me this and you won't regret it. I will follow you faithfully into Death's embrace if you would have me because this is what I have been tasked with."

Jon shuffled, unsure of what was happening. Jon couldn't wrap his head around how one moment he was beating angrily at a straw dummy because he was barred from attending the feast because he was a bastard and now he had a man he did not know asking if he could die for him. It was.. It felt strange. The look on the Aranel's face, as he looked into Jon's, as though there was nothing more he wanted than to come with him to the wall and make sure a wildling didn't run him through, it seemed completely sincere. Would it be wrong, to give him what he wanted? Jon wasn't sure and he let out a frustrated sound because of the conflict tearing through him.

"I don't want you to treat me as though I am your lord. I won't have you fetching things for me or treating me any differently than you would any other comrade. Do you understand that?" Jon said, the last phrase a question that Aranel quickly nodded to let him know he understood. "I don't know why you want this. I admit even know I am conflicted on whether this is a smart idea, but you are right that the Wall needs men, so I will allow you to accompany me as long as you remain loyal to Westeros. There is a great chance you will be required to take the black, and if you do so, that oath must come before any Oath you make here to me today. You will follow your commander's orders, even if it puts me in danger. If you agree, I will accept you as a comrade and companion."

"I, Aranel, swear on this night to protect you Jon Snow, as though it were my very own life I was protecting. My arm will be an extension of your own, my last breath will be drawn in order to allow you one more, my life for yours. I will follow you until you order me otherwise, will protect those you task me to protect, and will carry out your will as though it were my own. I swear from this day to my last, I will remain a steadfast and loyal companion until you deem me useless or unwanted." Aranel said reverently, his silver head bowed before Jon.

"Stand up." Jon said, embarrassed from the proclamation. The situation was so strange, he wasn't sure what to make of it or the man before him, but the deed was done. Aranel stood, supporting more of his weight on his staff, and smiling at Jon as though he had just given him something of great value; this only served to increase how red Jon's cheeks were. "I have to pack and speak with my Uncle Benjen. We are leaving, I'll let you know when tomorrow and I need to make sure he is fine with you coming along. Where are you staying?"

After telling Jon the name of the inn in Winter Town that Aranel was staying at, he made his way back to his room with a satisfied air about him. That had honestly gone smoother than Aranel had thought it would, so now all that was left was to eat a proper meal and get a good night's rest. After all, the journey to the wall and life at the wall were both harsh and winter was coming far too quickly for Aranel's liking.

 **A/N: Please let me know what you think! The more reviews, the faster the updates. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Aranel woke up as the sun was rising the next morning and, after a quick breakfast of nuts and fruit, he went to search for Jon Snow. Slipping by the guards again had been as simple as a child's game, and when Aranel found Jon he was speaking with a gruff man with a severe look on his face dressed entirely in black. Aranel lowered the hood of his cloak as he approached the two men, revealing his face framed by silver hair, and they fell silent as they watched him walk up to them.

"Is this him, then?" The man Aranel assumed to be Benjen asked Jon, eyeing the staff in Aranel's hand distrustfully. Jon nodded in confirmation and Benjen turned to face Aranel fully with the hand on the hilt of his sword. "How did you get into the keep? None of the guards recognized your description or even remember seeing a man in a hooded black cloak. You stick out like a sore thumb with that hair, so how did you slip past them?"

"I used a trick." Aranel said simply, flashing his teeth briefly.

"What kind of trick, boy?" Benjen asked, tone darkening as Aranel looked at Jon questioningly. "I don't have time for games. Tell me or we will take you to a cell."

"Tell him what he wants to know, Aranel." Jon added quietly, unsure if that was the response the silver haired man was looking for when he looked at him.

"As you wish." Aranel said, shrugging slightly and leaning a little on the staff in his hands. "I am not sure how to explain it. I can show you it if you'd like or another, more simple trick."

"Show me." Benjen commanded, scowling as Aranel looked to Jon once more, waiting for him to nod to indicate Aranel should comply, before agreeing.

Aranel casually glanced around the keep to see if there was anyone who was taking an interest in their conversation before mumbling words that neither Benjen nor Jon could hear properly. He uncurled his fist just as the words came to a stop and the two men reeled in shock at the sight of blue flames, condensed into an orb, that was now sitting in his hand. Jon wore a disbelieving expression, eyes wide and staring from the blue flames to the man he had met last night, wondering what he was to wield this 'trick' as he called it.

"Magic." Benjen muttered, eyeing the man with calculating eyes and renewed caution.

"Not magic, a trick." Aranel corrected, closing his fist around the fire and causing it to disappear, the only sign of it having existed was the puff of smoke that lingered in the air.

"Can you do the trick you used on the guards on me for a moment and then take it off?" Benjen asked with an interested gleam shining in his eyes.

Aranel looked to Jon to see if he wanted him to do so before agreeing to anything. Jon was still staring, shocked by the flame that had disappeared, and had not heard what Benjen asked. Aranel called his name, jarring Jon out of his thoughts, and told Aranel he should do anything Benjen asked him to do. Aranel nodded, watching Jon unsurely and hoping that the trick did not change his mind about allowing himself to accompany Jon, before focusing on Benjen. Unlike with the flame, Aranel stayed completely quiet as he worked the trick on the man of the Night Watch, smiling in satisfaction when he was finished.

"By the gods." Benjen breathed, trying to focus his eyes on Aranel.

"What is it?" Jon asked, his tone belying the nervousness he wasn't showing on his face.

"It's as though my eyes slide right past him. I know he is there to an extent, but I can't bring myself to care what he looks like or what he is doing at all. It's as though he is a tree that I walk past everyday but don't take notice of." Benjen replied, his voice filled with an unknown emotion. Aranel's fingers twitched and suddenly Benjen's eyes focused on Aranel once again, this time with a determined glint.

"You say you want to protect Jon Snow?" Benjen asked with a challenging tone.

"Yes." Aranel responded, eyes flickering to Jon for a brief moment before returning to Benjen.

"Why?" Benjen asked, more forcefully

"I have had a vision that told me to find him, to stay with him, and protect his life even it means sacrificing my own. I saw his face and that of a pale, white wolf that travels with him. It is my purpose in life." Aranel said hesitatingly, wondering how crazy the two of them must think he was.

"I don't want you or anyone to die for me!" Jon said, shaking his head at the words even though he knew that the silver haired man had said the same thing last night.

"Jon, let me talk with him alone." Benjen said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"I-" Jon started, looking defiant for a second before a slightly defeated expression crossed his face. "Yes, Uncle. Aranel, answer him honestly and do as he asks of you, please."

"As you wish." Aranel replied, shrugging casually, but his pale green eyes watched Jon as he walked away to lean against the wall on the other side of the keep and wait for the conversation to be done. Aranel maneuvered himself so that Jon was within his sight before glancing at Benjen, who had been watching him the entire time with an analyzing look.

"You truly mean to follow him, to an early grave if he desires?" Benjen asked, eyebrows raised.

"I swore an oath to follow him. My arm is an extension of his, my skills and knowledge his to use, and my body as shield to stop any attacks on his person. I will uphold this oath until I die and draw breath no more." Aranel replied firmly, no hesitation in his expression or eyes as he stared unblinkingly into Benjen's.

"The truth of the matter is, we could use someone with your skills at the Wall." Benjen said sourly, glancing away to examine Jon again. "I know Jon wants to come with me when I return, and you asked to follow him?"

"Yes." Aranel said

"Would you swear the oath of the Night's Watch?" Benjen asked, his eyes hardened.

"If Jon asks me too, yes." Aranel said slowly, cautiously.

"And if the Oaths were to contradict one another?" Benjen asked, staring him down.

"You already know which I would pick, so why did you ask me that question?" Aranel asked curiously

"I wanted to see how you would react, boy." Benjen told him

"Were you satisfied?" Aranel asked with amusement written on his face, making Benjen's eyes narrow.

"What if Jon told you to stay here?"

Aranel froze, carefully looking at Jon and then back at Benjen, before a rueful smile twisted his lips. "Then I would stay."

"So now you see." Benjen said approvingly, smirking a little in satisfaction. "Do you think he would if I asked him too?"

"Yes." Aranel replied, lowering his eyes a little. The man had him where he wanted him and unfortunately, Aranel and Benjen both knew it.

"We could use someone with your magic or tricks or whatever you call it at the Wall. I would make use of you though boy, I expect you to follow orders. Understand?" Benjen said, hard eyes unyielding as they bore into pale green.

"Yes, I understand." Aranel replied, voice steady and eyes unblinking.

"It will be up to Mormont what to do with you in the end. You can come with us to the wall, but we will be speaking with him about this." Benjen warned before walking away towards where Jon was standing. Aranel followed two steps behind him, raising his cloak to cover his rather inconspicuous hair color, and coming to stand next to Jon as Benjen explained that he would allow them both to come to the Wall and take the black. Jon's eyes gleamed with excitement at the idea while Aranel was indifferent to their destination, although he did find amusement in Jon's expression. As Benjen took his leave, Jon shifted awkwardly on his feet, running his hair through his black curls and letting out a deep sigh.

"Why are you willing to put my life ahead of yours?" Jon asked finally, confusion in his onyx eyes.

"I have not had a reason to live before I was given the vision I described. I wandered Westeros aimlessly, gambling mostly, and trying to find some kind of purpose to my life. I prayed, and for a long time I was unanswered, but then I saw you and knew that I had found my purpose." Aranel explained, his eyes begging Jon to understand. "I know it sounds crazy, I know you must think me deranged to swear an oath of fealty to a man I do not know, but I..I can feel it in my very bones that you are a good man and that this is the path I must follow."

"You're right, I don't understand." Jon said, shaking his head in frustration. "Well, where were you born?"

"The Free Cities." Aranel answered, blinking in surprise. "Why?"

"If you are going to be my friend, then I need to know more about you." Jon said, raising an eyebrow as though daring Aranel to argue with him.

"Friend.." Aranel said, elongating the word as though he were tasting it or trying out how it sounded.

"Yeah. I'm not your master and I don't want to be in charge of you. If you want to be my friend, then that is alright. You are your own person, no one can tell you what to do unless it's a direct order from a superior officer." Jon said

"I've never had a.. Friend, before." Aranel admitted, mildly sheepish.

"Well, now you do." Jon said, his lips turning upwards just a little in a smile before falling down into the serious expression he had worn since Aranel had met him the night before.

The two of them talked for awhile more, about what kinds of food they liked and the weapons they preferred to use. Jon asked questions about the Free Cities and Aranel, after hesitating and being berated gently by Jon for his hesitation, asked questions about growing up in Winterfell. They didn't talk about any serious subjects or delve too deep into any one particular topic, but they both walked away an hour later having gotten to know the other a little better. Jon told Aranel that he needed to do some things with his family and prepare to leave for the trip to the wall, so he said goodbye and Aranel wandered around the town for a few hours. Winter Town was a quaint little place filled with hard, sturdy people compared to the towns to the south. The people here seemed as unforgiving as the landscape and Aranel knew they most likely had to be in order to survive; it was admirable that they not only managed to do that, but to thrive in spite of the obstacles thrown to them by nature. That was not to say they were not amicable, for they were, just more wary than any townsfolk he had encountered in the southern lands of Westeros. Aranel was looking through a merchant's wares when he heard the news about one of the Stark children falling from a tower and being on the brink of death. Quick as he could move, Aranel was walking towards Winterfell in search of Jon. He slipped by the guards using the same trick as before and cast his gaze around the keep, which seemed more morose than it had been mere hours ago when he was inside it last. The air was practically fizzling with tension and Aranel hoped he was not too late.

He found Jon attempting to pace a trench into the stonework of the area outside of the nobles bedchambers. Aranel could see the worry plain as day on Jon's face, but it gave him hope; if it was worry, and not despair, there was still work that could be done. He wasn't too late to help save the boy.

"Jon." Aranel said softly, causing the boy to jerk his head up at the sound of his name being called. Jon's eyes were clouded with concern, but they cleared for a moment when they saw Aranel standing before him.

"Can you- I mean, is there anything?" Jon asked in broken sentences, unable to properly form the words for what he was requesting. "Your magic?"

"I have a trick that may help, but I will need to see him." Aranel replied, moving forward and making sure he did not promise results that he could not give. Jon nods, a jerky motion that was more on instinct than anything else, but tells Aranel to wait right where he was while he spoke with Ned.

Jon was gone for only a few minutes before Jon, Benjen, and Ned Stark were all striding through the door with faces grim. Ned eyed the silver haired boy, one who couldn't be more than twenty winters old, that had said he may be able to help his second youngest son. On the way from outside of Bran's bedchambers, where the Maester was administering what aid he could, Benjen had filled Ned in on the magic that the boy had done yesterday and his oath to Jon. Ned had given Jon a serious look, promising to talk to him about accepting such an Oath without readily thinking about it later, but first he needed to see if this boy could truly do something for his son.

"Jon said you claim to be able to help Bran?" Ned asked, blunt and direct, carefully scrutinizing the smaller boy. If Jon had not told him that he was a boy, he might've mistaken him for a girl; he had long hair, two parts pulled back into a low ponytail to keep it from his face, and delicate features without a hint of a beard on his face. It made him look even younger.

"Yes, Lord Stark. There is a trick I know that may be able to help young Bran recover." Aranel replied cautiously, eyes downcast. "I cannot work miracles, however, my lord. I will need to see him before I know for sure."

Ned considered him for a moment, eyes going from his head to his travel worn boots that were secured to his feet. His eyes stopped for a moment on the intricate carvings on the staff, absentmindedly admiring the craftsmanship, before thinking of how broken his son looked in his bed. He soon found himself agreeing to allow the mage or whatever he was to pass through into the family's living quarters. When Jon, Ned, Benjen, and Aranel came upon the door where a woman with a harried expression was standing, Aranel knew this was Bran's mother and the Lady Stark.

"Ned, who is that?" Catelyn Stark asked, her piercing blue eyes watching Aranel like a hawk when a predator was near its nest.

"This is Aranel, a companion of sorts to Jon. He says he may be able to help." Ned replied, eyes softening as he looked upon his wife whose face was beset by worry and grief.

"The sooner I may see him, my lord, the more I will know and the more likely I can help. Time is of the utmost importance." Aranel said, gently reminding him that they did not have time to explain his presence to everyone they came upon. Ned nodded, and Caitlyn eyed him with a small amount of hope in her dull eyes, before giving a distasteful look to Jon that had Aranel gripping his staff a little more tightly than usual. Aranel loosened his grip when he noticed Benjen watching him, and stepped into the door where Ned was arguing with Maester Luwin, requesting he leave the room until summoned back.

"My lord, Bran's condition requires constant monitoring - he has a deep fever and his body shakes from shock, I must be here to do what-" Maester Luwin was saying, falling silent as Aranel stepped into the room, his staff making a thunk sound that echoed among the stone walls as he stepped further into the room. Maester Luwin looked at Ned with something akin to reproach in his eyes. "Who is this? If you are here to work some kind of dark magic, you canno-"

"Enough, Maester Luwin." Ned Stark said, his voice commanding respect and obedience. "Maester, please wait outside until I call you. Aranel, do what you can."

Once the Maester left the room, Aranel took of the black cloak he was wearing to reveal the dark gray tunic underneath with black trousers that fit snugly. He laid his satchel and staff down on a chair near Bran's bed before he moved forward to press his hand against his forehead and leaning down to listen to his chest as he breathed in raggedly. Aranel ignored the penetrating stares of the two Stark men inside the room and Jon's hopeful look as he backed away from the bed for a moment, thinking.

"I believe I can help him, but as I said Lord, I am no miracle worker. This is a grievous injury to a sensitive place and I have seen men die from a fall from a lower height." Aranel said, brows furrowed.

"Will he live or not? Speak plainly." Lord Stark demanded, frowning as he tried to understand what the boy was saying to him.

"With a strong will to live and my help, he will survive. I will do what I can, but the rest is up to him." Aranel said gravely, before walking forward and placing both of his hands on either side of Bran's skull. The room was silent, and the three men gathered a little ways away from Aranel and Bran grew wary when the room began to seemingly crackle with an unseen energy. It was as though something was in the air that made their very blood sing and their hearts pound just a little harder inside their chests. It was this tense, thick atmosphere that surrounded the room for the next half hour until finally, Aranel backed away to fall into the chair where his staff and satchel lay. Aranel was pale with perspiration on his face, breathing as though he had just ran for a good amount of time, and he seemed to sag with exhaustion. The men left him be, waiting for him to break the silence, but they visibly relaxed as Bran stopped shaking on the bed before them. Bran was not shaking, his breathing evened out, and the worry lines on his face faded until he could have been mistaken for being asleep. Aranel stood up, unsteady on his legs, but waved off Jon when he moved forward to help him, choosing to lean on his staff instead.

"I must go, my lord. I need to.. Recover my strength. As I said, the rest is up to Bran. I cannot be sure he will wake up, but I have done what I am able and he is in far more stable condition than he was. Time will tell from here." Aranel said, his voice quavering only a little bit from tiredness as he put his cloak on once more. As Aranel turned to leave the room, Ned Stark stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"What would you ask of me? Name it, and if it is within my power, I will attempt to grant it." Ned said gravely, his gratefulness shining through his eyes.

Aranel smiled, one filled with sympathy and just a hint of sadness, before looking at Jon Snow for a moment, who was watching him openly. "I ask for nothing except your leave to regain my strength. The Wall is not close and there is hard terrain between here and there."

Ned nodded slowly, watching as the man walked out of the room, leaning on his staff heavily. After giving a relieved look at how much better Bran was, he followed after his new companion. He waited until the two were outside of where he could hear them before turning to his brother. "What do you make of him, Benjen?"

"He's an odd one, Ned." Benjen said, eyes contemplative as he looked at the door where the silver haired man had just left and then to Jon. "Odd, but it would be appear he is honest. So far, he's done everything Jon has asked of him and asked for nothing in return. If he was going to, that would have been a good moment too. Those 'tricks' as he calls them.. Well, that's magic, no matter what he says about the matter. If those reports about White Walkers are true and not some madman's ravings, I am hoping he can be of some use."

Ned nodded, the conversation breaking off as Caitlyn hurried into the room and let out a sound of relief when she saw Bran breathing uninhibited. Maester Luwin looked astounded, rushing as much as someone of his age could, to check the boys signs of vitality. Ned sighed, thinking of how soon he would have to leave Winterfell in order to go serve as the Hand of the King, most likely before Bran had even woken up. He needed to go to the Godswood to pray. First, he went to his wife who was weeping silently in relief and held her in his arms as the Maester checked over Bran, saying what Aranel had earlier; Bran Stark would live, but if or when he would wake up, that was up to him now.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Jon had followed Aranel to the Inn he was staying at last night after he had helped Bran, to make sure that the man didn't collapse from exhaustion on his way. Jon did not have a clue what he had done or why it took so much out of Aranel, but he was glad that he had met the other man that night. The smaller man was a mystery to Jon, but he had seen the lonely look in his eye when Aranel had told Jon about his time in Westeros and Jon was now determined to befriend his strange new companion even though the power that he had frightened Jon just a little, though he would not let it show.

The next day, Jon had packed and just needed to say his goodbyes. Benjen told him last night that they would be traveling with Robert Baratheon and his father until they split ways, the King's party heading south while Jon, Benjen, and Aranel went North. Jon gave Arya the small sword he had the blacksmith make for her, which she named needle, before giving her the advice to stick people with the pointy end and hugging her in farewell. His next visit was to Bran, who was unconscious though the color had returned to his cheeks and he merely looked like he was sleeping. There, he said his goodbyes and tried to not allow Catelyn Stark's words or dismissive look rattle him. He was used to her attitude towards him by now. Jon said goodbye to Rickon and Robb as well, and then went to fetch Aranel just as the King's party was preparing to leave.

Aranel was at a stable in Winter Town, bartering for a grey mare that seemed strong enough even though it appeared as though she had missed a couple of meals. Aranel eventually got the horsemaster to come down enough on his price that it would not break him financially, and he threw his pack onto her back just as he saw Jon Snow walking through the streets. Jon noticed him almost instantly, the silver colored hair acting like a beacon among the dark haired people of Winter Town.

"Are you ready to leave, Aranel?" Jon asked, examining the horse he was now putting the saddle on.

"I am. I was just purchasing Myranda here and then I was going to head up to Winterfell to find you." Aranel replied, smiling enough to show his teeth.

"Myranda?" Jon asked quizzically, the name sounding foreign on his tongue and causing his lips to quirk just a little. Aranel had the odd habit of catching him off guard and amusing him.

"Yes." Aranel said, guiding the horse using the reigns so that he could walk next to Jon as they made their way back to Winterfell. "It is the name of a woman in a story passed around the Free Cities, remind me to tell you of it one day."

"I will." Jon promised, watching as Aranel drew the hood of his cloak up so that his face was half hidden in its shadowy depths. "Why do you cover your hair and face?"

Aranel hesitated before telling him the reason but after thinking over it for a moment, found no reason to lie. "I am often mistaken for a woman. This causes men to..behave in a manner they should not."

"Surely once they realized you were a man they would leave you alone?" Jon asked, astounded by what Aranel was suggesting.

"To some men, a pretty face is merely that." Aranel said, a dark look coming across his face before the crude words that followed. "And to some, a hole is a hole. They don't care where they stick their cock as long as it is warm and tight."

Jon gaped at him, stunned into speechlessness. He had known that a lot of women faced this fear, as wrong as it was for them to have too, but for a man to be afraid of what another man might do was unheard of to him. Jon had no idea what to say to that statement, but luckily Aranel caught his unease and broke the tension with a lighthearted smile.

"They never find me as easy of a target as they think though." Aranel said, winking a little at Jon as though the two of them shared a secret. "Are you excited to be going to the wall?"

"Yes, although it pains me to leave my family behind, I will admit to being relieved to be leaving Winterfell." Jon said, the previous conversation being forgotten in light of the topic of their destination. "At the Wall, there are no bastards, just men of the Night's Watch."

Aranel hummed in a wordless reply and let Jon tell him about what he hoped to be able to achieve at Castle Black. He hoped to rise above his bastard status and be recognized as a man of integrity, skill, and bravery such as the likes of his Uncle Benjen. Aranel had his doubts that this would be the last time someone discriminates against his bastard heritage, but kept the thoughts to himself in order to not trample Jon's hopes. It wasn't long until they came upon Winterfell and Aranel tied off Myranda while he went to help Jon get his own horse situated. Then, they met with Benjen and the group was off. For most of the journey, Aranel kept silent and to himself while Jon, Benjen, and Ned talked amongst one another. Aranel kept a wary eye on both those that traveled with them in the King's company as well as the surrounding forest. It would be a fool that attacked the King's procession, but unfortunately, fools were numerous in the world so it never hurt to be cautious.

When the King's men went to turn south, Aranel stood out of the way in order to give Jon privacy while he bade his father goodbye. When Jon finally returned to where Benjen and Aranel were sitting on their horses in silence, he had a look of determination in his eye as well as a hint of sadness. The three of them were silent as they traveled, picking up the pace now that they did not have to match that of the king's company, and in order to discourage bandits or thieves from attacking. Fast moving, well armed targets were usually not worth the trouble and so sellswords and men of a more unsavory nature usually didn't bother with them. At the pace they were currently going, Benjen estimated that they would arrive at Castle Black within two days time. It was only after it got too dark for the horses to see and for it to become dangerous to ride that they braked for camp, unpacking bedrolls and not setting a fire so as not to attract any unwanted attention to themselves. They had been set up for an hour when the group of men tried to attack them. Aranel knew instantly they were not very experienced or they would have waited until two or at least one of them had been asleep in order to get some kind of element of surprise.

When the first one burst out of the camp, Aranel twirled his staff and parried the sword with it in order to avoid the slash that was meant to disembowel him. Aranel counted seven men, so they were outnumbered two to one, but the odds were not too terrible. He had a last resort in case they needed it, but he hoped they did not. Aranel parried another blow from the swordsman and then spun around, knocking a man's axe to the side that tried to sneak up on Aranel from the back, before whacking him upside the head as hard as possible. His head was bashed in, skull fractured by the obsidian on the end of his staff, and Aranel didn't give him a second thought when he saw the man was down before moving on to focus on the sword wielder. He noticed Benjen had killed one of his own opponents and was quickly getting the better of his second, while Jon was holding his own as well. Ghost was trying to get around one of the men's wild swings to get at his throat. It took a few moments of back and forth before Aranel finally swept the man's feet from under him with his staff and then stuck the top end of his staff, which was slightly pointed, into the man's throat. Aranel turned around to find Ghost and Benjen had moved to help Jon who was just running his opponent through with his sword when Aranel saw the bush behind Jon move to reveal a seventh man with a sword in one hand and a dagger, poised to stab Jon in his back while it was turned, in the other hand.

" **Pain."** Aranel said, his voice unnaturally deep and resounding around the clearing for a moment. The next moment, the two weapons in the man's hand fell to the floor as he writhed and screamed in agony. The sensation was akin to a hundred burning needles being pressed into every part of your skin; it was one of the most gruesome tricks Aranel knew and he had cast it without thinking. Benjen used the distraction the noise had caused to kill his opponent and then turned to watch as the man rolled around on the floor in mindless terror and pain. Aranel's eyes had not left his form, deep and unforgiving as he allowed the trick to keep going, not noticing the look of wide eyed horror Jon was giving him.

"Aranel! Stop." Jon shouted, moving towards the silver haired man who had fury in his eyes.

Aranel blinked out of his daze, that particular trick needed a lot of hatred to use and it put the person using it into a trancelike state as they inflicted the pain on their target. It was especially vicious, but when Aranel heard Jon's voice he ended the trick instantly, turning to make sure Jon Snow was alright.

Jon seemed unharmed but his eyes were fixated on the man, who was still twitching on the forest floor, his eyes closed and he remained silent. Jon looked at Aranel with a fear in his eyes that made Aranel's stomach turn. "What did you do to him?"

"H-he was trying to kill you." Aranel explained, eyes darting to where Benjen was watching them passively with an unreadable look on his face. "I didn't think, I just.."

"Don't use that trick again." Jon said, firmly, disgust on his face and in his voice as he looked at the twitching man. "Never on another person."

"I won't." Aranel agreed, already having thought he wouldn't use it just to avoid the sickened look that Jon was currently sporting.

"Promise me you won't use that again." Jon said, moving towards Aranel with his onyx orbs boring into his own pale green ones.

"I promise. Never again." Aranel said sincerely, meaning every word. "I'm sorry, I didn- I mean, I just.."

"Just.. don't." Jon said, casting his eyes down and seeming to turn in on himself as Benjen walked over to the man and slit his throat, finally stopping him from his constant twitching. Jon walked away from Aranel, leaving him standing there praying that Jon would forgive him. He shouldn't have used that damn trick, what was he thinking?

* * *

Jon did not sleep well that night, with the mans terrified face and agonized screams making an appearance in his dreams. Whatever Aranel had used against him had been torture; it was evil. There was no way it could be anything else because that was not giving someone an honorable or clean death, it was a long and drawn out one. Jon was silent the next morning, wary and keeping his distance from Aranel although he knew that the silver haired man wouldn't hurt him. Jon ignored small amount of hurt he could see glimmering in Aranel's eyes when he had flinched earlier because Aranel had touched his fingers while passing a canteen of water. He didn't do it on purpose, it's just that he couldn't get the bandit's face out of his mind. When they camped for the second, far more uneventful, night, Jon's Uncle Benjen asked Aranel to take the horses to a nearby stream to water them but to keep in shouting distance. Aranel nodded in agreement and did what Benjen said, going about his task quickly and quietly, showing no sign that Jon's eyes on him was bothering him in the slightest.

"He reacted without thinking, you know. Instinctual." Benjen said as he sat down on a log nearby where Jon was sitting himself.

"I- what he did, that was sick and wrong." Jon said indignantly, wondering why he needed to explain himself when Aranel had tortured a man with his power who might have just been a impoverished man, starving with a family to feed.

"What I'm saying is, he didn't actively set out to hurt that man in that way. He saw you in imminent danger and reacted to defend you." Benjen explained patiently, eyeing Jon.

"Why would he even know something like that?" Jon asked, nose wrinkled in disgust. "You heard the sounds that man was making, as though he were being stabbed a thousands times and set on fire all at once."

"You don't know everything about what that boy has been through. The 'trick', as he calls them, that he used kept the man alive. Some would consider it more humane than dying. There could be any number of reasons why he didn't want to kill someone but just inflict enough pain that they wouldn't forget it anytime soon or attempt to do whatever they had, whether it be rob him or kill him."

Jon froze when his uncle said that, his mind flashing back to a conversation with Aranel that he had two days ago on the way from the stable he had purchased Myranda at. ' _To some men, a pretty face is merely that and to some, a hole is a hole. They don't care where they stick their cock as long as it is warm and tight._ Jon wanted to be even more sick know that he could imagine why Aranel would want to learn something like that, why he would want to inflict that kind of pain on someone but not kill them.

"You also should remember that the man you've been avoiding all day is the same one who saved your brother three days ago. He's also the same one who swore an oath to protect you, and today he made good on that oath." Benjen continued when Jon made no move to walk. "Just something to think about."

Jon sat on the log after Benjen moved to unroll his sleeping pack, thinking over what Benjen had said and remembering how upset Aranel had seemed when he realized what he had done. Maybe he wasn't upset he had done it, but he was upset Jon had seen it? Either way, Jon got up and went towards the river where he could hear the horses neighing occasionally in between drinking water. When Jon arrived, Aranel had his back turned to him, but quickly turned around as he heard movement. Jon saw Aranel's eyes flash with shame before he lowered his head, refusing to look into Jon's eyes.

"I'll go in a minute, if you'd like. Benjen's horse is almost done." Aranel said quietly, seeming to shrink in on himself as though it would make him less noticeable. Jon had seen a boy do that once, one who had been orphaned recently, and he did it because it made him less of a target.

"No." Jon heard himself say, causing Aranel's head to snap up with wide eyes. "I wanted to.. Apologize."

"You really don't have too, I shouldn't have done.. That. I know that." Aranel replied instantly, shaking his head. "I should apologize again. It was wrong and cruel of me."

"You were only trying to save my life and I've been ungrateful towards you even though you did exactly that. It's not fair for me to judge you about why you learned something like that, but I won't take back what I said. Don't use that trick again." Jon said, frowning.

"I will not." Aranel replied solemnly, standing up and walking cautiously towards Jon. "Are you - afraid of me?"

"Sometimes." Jon said honestly, his voice even. He didn't miss the way that Aranel winced and so he expanded on his answer. "I'm not afraid of you, really. I'm afraid of what you can do."

"I'm sorry." Aranel murmured, eyes downcast while he appeared to be in deep thought.

"Don't apologize for being yourself." Jon said, frowning. "I just haven't known you long and it takes.. Getting used too. Healing someone is one thing, as is making fire and tricking guards, but causing that kind of pain was disturbing to watch. I forgive you though and I don't want you to dwell on it, just as I won't. It's in the past and we will both do better in the future."

"I like the sound of that." Aranel said, lips upturned slightly as he looked at Jon. They both jumped into action when they heard Benjen shout for them to come there, together they took off running, prepared to get into a fight. What they saw, however, was none other than Tyrion Lannister sitting on top of a pony with a smirk on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked, confused at the dwarf's presence.

"I had a lannister guard escort me to you here. I am going to accompany you to the Wall, I am curious enough to want to see it with my own eyes." Tyrion said, sliding off the pony and walking, which honestly almost looked more like a waddle, towards the log Jon had been previously occupying and taking the seat for himself. Tyrion looked at Aranel with unrestrained curiosity burning behind his eyes and Aranel wanted desperately to pull his cloak's hood to cover himself.

"Well hello there." Tyrion said, seeming surprised. "You're a pretty thing. Don't tell me you are going to the wall?"

"Aranel is a man." Jon Snow said, eyes narrowed at Tyrion.

"Oh." Tyrion said, looking bewildered. "Well, that is interesting."

"Hardly." Aranel said dryly, turning to go fetch the horses from the river and ignoring the chuckles coming from the Dwarf. He barely heard Tyrion say something about how funny they looked: a proper man of the night watch, a bastard, a dwarf, and a man that looks like a woman. Aranel ignored the ill humored joke and got the horses reins in hands, guiding them back to the campsite where the other two, now three, people were sitting around. Aranel did not particularly care for Tyrion because although he was a dwarf, constantly being underestimated and belittled, Aranel could clearly see the intelligence under the cynicism and alcoholism. Intelligence was most certainly just as dangerous as a sharpened sword in the right hand, and it was more dangerous to underestimate a smart opponent than a stupid one.

In the morning, the four of them packed camp quickly and made their way towards Castle Black. Tyrion Lannister entertained Jon with stories he had read about a few famous knights and asked Benjen questions about the wall. Aranel was silent for the most part, staying towards the back of the group with his hood firmly in place, keeping an eye on the road ahead. Aranel had only slept when it was Benjen on watch; He had wanted to keep an eye on the Imp, who was not offered a watch post which he seemed perfectly content with truth be told. Aranel was tired, but he had been on the brink of exhaustion and still fought, so this was nothing in comparison. They rode at a more sedate pace now that Tyrion was along because of the pony he rode, although it made Aranel wonder how he had caught up to them so quickly. The man would have had to ride through the night at least once in order to gain that much ground. Aranel overhears Tyrion telling Jon that he reads books in order to sharpen his mind, which was his greatest asset and weapon. It honestly surprised Aranel that Tyrion would readily admit that, assuming the man had learned that being underestimated was just as powerful of a weapon, but after thinking on it he decided Tyrion just did not view Jon as a threat. As they drew closer to Castle Black, that was when they were joined by new 'recruits' for the wall; some of them walked free, some were in chains, but none of them were armed except the man wearing clothes of the Night Watch leading them. Benjen recognised him because he pulled his horse near the man's in order to talk with him, most likely explaining our presence. The train of men came to a stop and Tyrion, Jon, and Aranel got off of their horses in order to stretch their legs for a moment.

"New recruits." Tyrion commented, looking over the travel weary men in chains with an unreadable expression. Noticing Jon's confused look, he elaborated on his previous statement. "The Night's Watch is not a noble institution of glorious knights defending the realm against the horrors lurking beyond the wall. No, it's become a dumping ground for the unwanted and the criminals."

"Some may choose to take the black in order to avoid a death sentence." Aranel added quietly, noting how Jon seemed perturbed by the idea that these were supposed to be his brothers, but taking it in stride nonetheless.

" 'ho is that one with their cloak drawn, Benjen?" The Night's Watch man asked Jon's uncles, eyeing Aranel suspiciously. Benjen turned to look at Aranel and then said something to the man the three others could not hear from where they were gathered beside a wagon.

Benjen turned to face the three, gesturing at them to come over, and calling out to Aranel as they walked in their direction. He then said something Aranel truly didn't want to hear "Take off your hood. You are among friends, no need to hide."

Aranel hesitated for a moment, eyeing the unpleasant men nearby that were watching Tyrion, Jon, and himself with interest for lack of anything better to do. Aranel knew it was not a request, however, and so resignedly he lowered the hood, ignoring the slight silence that followed.

"Well, well. That one's got a prettier face 'han the one that done and got me locked up 'n sent to this 'ell hole." One man said as they walked past. He had a scar across his nose and his skin was bubbling from pimples and skin rash. He was missing a number of teeth and the few he still had were yellowed and decayed from Skeen, a drug popular among the lower class. It was highly addictive and absolutely hell on the body. "Bet tha' cunt yer hiding underneath them bits o' cloth is sweeter too."

There were another few lewd remarks that Aranel ignored, eyes straightforward and focused on Benjen. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Jon was getting angry, one of his hands were gripped tightly around the hilt of his sword and Aranel could hear his teeth grinding in frustration.

"That's enough out of you lot." The Night's Watch man said to the 'recruits', who quieted down but still talked between themselves in low tones.

"This is my nephew, Jon Snow, as well as Tyrion Lannister and Aranel." Benjen said, gesturing to each of them in turn. Jon and Aranel both nodded to the man, recognizing the introduction but Tyrion was the only one of them who vocalized it. They stood around for a moment while Benjen talked about news from down south with the man before he informed him they would be going ahead and that he would see the other man when he arrived later that day. They saddled up on their horses and left, eager to finally get to their destination. Aranel glanced at Jon as his shoulders relaxed slightly and he let out the aggravated breath he had been holding in.

"Uncle, why did you let them just talk to Aranel that way?" Jon asked, frustration clear in his voice as well as disgust.

"It is fine, Jon." Aranel said before Benjen could answer.

"No, it's not." Jon replied hotly, eyes burning a hole in his uncle's back.

"You don't have to worry about me. I am more than capable of taking care of myself." Aranel said angrily, finally turning to face Jon fully. "Like it or not, those are the kind of men who serve the watch - not all of them will be like that and some will learn to control themselves I'm sure, but it is the way of the world and there is nothing you can do about it. Instead of trying to change the nature of people, focus on learning how to separate your emotions from duty."

Aranel kicked his horse's side, making Myranda pick up the pace, informing Benjen that he was going to scout ahead and would be back in a minute. Benjen turned in his seat, casting a heavy eye on Jon, who looked utterly bewildered at what had just happened. "He isn't wrong, you know."

"Why are those men allowed to serve in the Watch? Rapists, murderers?" Jon asked

"The Night's Watch doesn't have many volunteers anymore and we need all the hands we can get. There wouldn't be enough men otherwise. Hell, there already isn't enough men even with them." Benjen said slightly frustrated "This is the life you are signing up for, but he is right when he says to worry about yourself first and don't go defending another man's honor. Do you think he didn't know what he was getting himself into? Do you think he can't defend himself?"

"Of course he can." Jon said, memories of the previous night coming to mind.

"Then leave him be. If he needs help, he'll ask. Otherwise, words are just words. I'm sure he has heard worse, looking the way he does, and will hear worse as well." Benjen said, a finality in his tone that said they wouldn't be talking about this again. "It's a curse, in his mind, I'm sure but he's grown up with that face and will die with it as well. He'll survive."

Jon was silent, and when Aranel came back significantly cooler headed, no words were exchanged between the two. Tyrion was also suspiciously quiet, although no one said anything about it, and it was only broken when they left the edge of the forest and saw Castle Black. It was a structure of wood and stone built against the massive wall that went up as high as the eye could see. Compared to the massive wall, the 'castle' was incredibly small and insignificant. In fact, it was really more like a fort than anything else. Aranel, who had never seen the wall before, exchanged a look of wonder with Jon at how massive it truly was. With that moment of shared incredulity at the structure before them, the small argument between the two of them was dismissed and forgotten. Aranel eyed the gates and the wall, taking note of every detail he could, because this was going to be home for the foreseeable future. It might honestly be the longest he had ever stayed in one location, which was both scary and comforting.

 **A/N: If I get at least two reviews, I'll write and post chapter four tomorrow night ;) Enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Benjen had introduced Jon and Aranel both to Ser Alliser Thorne, who was in charge of the new recruits, and then immediately afterwards had dismissed himself in order to speak with the Lord Commander. Aranel knew it was most likely about himself, so he wasn't surprised when the next day he was called to the Lord Commander's office while the other recruits were sparring. Aranel had winced when he saw how badly Jon had beaten some of their fellow's but kept an eye on the few who gave him death looks; those were the most likely to retaliate and Aranel wouldn't let them touch a curly hair on Jon's head without going through him first. Most of the men, after the initial shock at Aranel's appearance, had kept their comments to themselves. The only one Aranel could see himself having a problem with in the future was one by the name of Rast, who no surprise, was a former rapist and had made lewd comments under his breath when Aranel was close enough to hear him.

Aranel knocked on the Lord Commander's door, waiting until he heard the command to enter before stepping into the office that had a fire burning brightly. There were three men present in the office; one was Benjen Stark, the other who Aranel assumed to be the Lord Commander, and finally an old man with the chains of a Maester. Aranel bowed politely before the three of them and waited for the commander to speak.

"Do you know who I am?" Lord Commander asked, raising a bushy eyebrow at Aranel.

"The Lord Commander?" Aranel guessed, his tone rather dry, facing the white haired man calmly.

"Lord Commander Mormont." Mormont corrected, his voice a deep baritone. He may have been getting on in the years, but Aranel could tell the man could still swing a sword just fine. What surprised him, however, was that the Maester was blind, his eyes having the distinct fog that spoke of his inability to see. "This is Maester Aemon, and you know Benjen."

"Yes, Lord Commander." Aranel replied patiently, waiting for the reason why he had been summoned.

"Do you know why I asked you to come see me, boy?" Mormont asked, leaning forward slightly in his desk made of oak.

"I can guess." Aranel responded, not elaborating what his guess was.

"I'll bet you can." Mormont said, seeming to look over the younger man. "Benjen told me about your determination to follow Snow here from Winterfell."

"Yes, Lord Commander." Aranel said when the man stopped talking for a moment, clearly waiting for a response.

"You swore an Oath to him?" Mormont asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Lord Commander." Aranel replied, making sure none of his amusement show at the brief flash of irritation Mormont had on his face, most likely from his lack of response.

"What exactly does that Oath entail?" Mormont asked, tone demanding

"I'm afraid that is between Jon Snow and I, although I am sure Benjen knows as well and has already told you, Lord Commander." Aranel replied, keeping his voice carefully polite. "I do not mind you knowing, however I do not know Jon's stance, so I feel it necessary to not divulge any information at this time about that particular subject."

"If I ordered you to tell me?" Mormont asked with a dangerously low tone of voice, daring him to tell him he would refuse orders.

"I would simply remind you that since I have not taken the Oath of the Night's Watch and have come to the Wall on my own volition, I am not under your command, Lord Commander." Aranel said, voice even. "I will follow your directive as is necessary because you control this dwelling, but you may not command me to reveal anything yet, Lord Commander."

"He's a cunning one." Maester Aemon said, his face seeming to twitch in amusement.

"What about this magic Benjen tells me about?" Mormont asked, ignoring what Aranel had said as well as the elderly Maester.

"It's not magic, they are just tricks, Lord Commander." Aranel corrected him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. How often would he have to say it wasn't magic before these people believed him? He was, after all, the one who did the tricks so wouldn't he know?

"Show me." Mormont commanded, leaning back in his seat.

Aranel wracked his brain for a moment, looking around the room to get inspiration for a trick, when his eyes fell on the glass of ale in front of Mormont, sitting inconspicuously on his desk half-full. Aranel smiled a little, murmured under his breath, and watched along with the the other occupants of the room as the ale slowly froze solid. Mormont grabbed the mug and tipped it upside down, eyebrows raising as the now frozen ale stayed in the mug, and then set it back down.

"You froze the mug of ale." Mormont said, more to himself and most likely Maester Aemon than to Aranel but he replied anyway.

"Yes, Lord Commander."

"Benjen has told us about these other feats you performed, from healing the Stark boy to making the bandit fall to the ground screaming." Mormont told him, and Aranel winced slightly when he was reminded of the bandit's twitching body. "What else can you do?"

"A lot, Lord Commander." Aranel said, shrugging a little. He wasn't going to make a list for him and he certainly didn't care one around.

"Did you know Lord Eddard Stark sent a letter with Benjen asking that you be granted leave to stay here without swearing the Oath, to help as you can and to allow you to keep an eye on Jon Snow?" Mormont asked suddenly

"No, Lord Commander, I did not." Aranel replied softly, stunned. He was thankful for the letter, and knew that was Lord Eddard's way to thank him, but surprised he had thought of something such as that and written the letter before he left for King's Landing.

"I'm thinking of granting his request, but there are a few rules we need to make clear, boy." Mormont all but growled at him, reminding Aranel of a bear. "I won't make you take the Oath to take the black, but I want one stating you will not do anything to harm a member of the Night's Watch. You won't use any of these tricks against a member of the Night's Watch. You are going to do your fair share of work and you will follow my orders as long as you are here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lord Commander." Aranel replied, not quite believing his luck.

"Now, you will not get to follow Snow around like a guard dog, he already has that wolf running amok and I don't need another one. You aren't bound by oath to stay here, at least not to me, and are free to leave as you please - which means if Snow leaves on a mission, unless I say you cannot, you may go. I will order Snow to order you if I need too." Mormont said, scowling slightly but his eyes held no malice in them. "Do you have any questions?"

"May I be assigned watch duty as well as the other kinds, such as cleaning and mucking the stables, Lord Commander?" Aranel asked after thinking for a moment.

"Well that's a first." Benjen said, smirking a little underneath his beard. "Someone asking for Watch Duty and not complaining about cleaning or mucking."

"You are an odd sort, boy." Mormont said, agreeing with Benjen. "I'll let you know what exactly you are to do around here. The rest of the day is yours, do with it what you will."

The last sentence was obviously a dismissal and so Aranel turned on his heel and walked out of the room without looking back. He wanted to go watch the other men as they sparred, but found that Jon and his group had left. There were a few men floating around, a couple sparring or hitting practice dummies, and Aranel hefted his staff a little as he thought about approaching one for a quick match.

"You waiting for something, princess?" a voice said, and when Aranel turned with a dark look on his face at the nickname, came to face Alliser Thorne who had an ugly grin on his face. Knowing confronting the man, while it would be an immediate gratifying feeling, would only make his time here worse and most likely for Jon as well, Aranel ignored the name.

"A sparring partner." Aranel replied coldly

"Ey, Mawle." Thorne called out to one of the bigger men who had been striking at a straw dummy to the side. The man turned when his name had been called, a questioning look on his face. "Princess here wants a match, that stick versus a real sword. What do you think?"

"Sure." Mawle said, a grin beginning to overtake his face as he looked at the staff in Aranel's hands. Aranel refrained from rolling his eyes, knowing Thorne had picked this man because he was almost twice his height and he thought Aranel would be intimidated. Thorne watched the two carefully as they got ready, Mawle taking on a rather aggressive stance that Aranel took notice of instantly. Aranel also noticed Jon Snow walking out of one of the stone buildings, eyes on the match Aranel was about to engage in but Aranel saw the bruise on his face. His eyes narrowed, taking in the way Jon was moving in a more stiff manner than he had been earlier and deduced that one of if not all of the guys he had been sparring against had already retaliated. Aranel felt his blood begin to boil but was distracted by Mawle swinging his hand-and-a-half sword in a devastating downward strike.

Aranel stepped to the side, watching as Mawle clumsily corrected his balance when he met not resistance at all. Mawle lashed out again, a high horizontal cut this time, and Aranel leaned backwards to duck out of the way but stayed firmly in his position with his staff held in both hands.

"Are you going to fight or dodge all day?" Mawle goaded, eyes burning as he once again tried to strike at Aranel but met nothing except air as the silver haired man moved out of the way of the blade. The man's shoulders telegraphed his next move, trying to put too much strength into the account made him lose valuable time and surprise, so it was easy to figure out where the swing was going to go. Aranel waited until the next one, which was a diagonal slash, before he made his move. This time he met the sword in mid air, causing a resounding thunk as it hit the wood of his staff, and Aranel twisted the staff so that it locked the man's sword and Aranel's staff away from both of their bodies before kicking the man in the chest and knocking him loose, as well as any air he had in his legs. Aranel waited politely for the man to stop gasping for breath and used that time to help him be more of a challenge.

"You should focus on not using your shoulder so much. It gives your moves a lot of strength, but slows down the strikes too much. It also makes it easy to predict what you are going to do. You should use your wrist more." Aranel advised, his tone polite but it only seemed to infuriate Mawle, because when he got up he charged towards Aranel and did two aggressive slashes. Aranel blocked them with his staff and then did a counterstrike, using the extra reach his staff gave him to knock the man's shins in a punishing blow that most likely hurt like a bitch and would bruise. They went back and forth for awhile, Aranel only being hit once on his shoulder, before the other man was disarmed. Aranel grabbed the man's sword and offered it back to him, a small smile on his face, and thanked him for the match without any condescending words or smug expression. Mawle took the sword without another word and went back to his practice dummy, but Aranel could see that he was trying to focus on using his wrist more and that made him smile in satisfaction.

"Why did tell him about using his shoulder?" Jon asked him, coming up to Aranel and consequently reminding him about the bruises Jon was sporting.

"He is not my enemy and may one day be protecting my back or side. I would like for him to be as good as he possibly can be in preparation of that day or a day where my advice saves his life." Aranel said, shrugging a little bit but narrowing his eyes. "What happened to your face?"

"A few guys didn't like that I beat them." Jon said, mumbling a little bit at the end. "Tyrion walked in and stopped it. He said I am privileged compared to them and should be lifting them up instead of beating them at practice."

"It sounds like good advice." Aranel said slowly, wondering what game the imp was playing at.

"I'm just not used to fighting people who aren't as good or better than me." Jon admitted, frowning. "I thought if I showed how good of a fighter I was they would make me a ranger faster and I could be out there with Benjen. Maybe I should do what you did and help them get better?"

"Maybe." Aranel agreed, mouth twitching. "They are letting me stay here."

"Really?" Jon asked, not looking surprised. "So you're taking the Night's Watch Oath?"

"No, they have allowed me to stay as a guest." Aranel replied, that statement causing Jon to look surprised. "I was shocked as well."

"Why?" Jon managed to ask

"I'm not sure." Aranel admitted, shrugging a little bit. "I think because they know that I would put my words to you before any other Oath and they don't want a conflict of interest, but for some reason they were extremely interested in the tricks I can do, so that may be it as well."

"I honestly thought they would either make you take the Oath or send you away." Jon said, his normal slightly brooding expression back on his face.

"Yes, well. Maybe they knew they wouldn't be able to keep me out?" Aranel suggested, winking at Jon to let him know he was joking and getting a small, brief smile in return.

The next day, Aranel saw Jon sparring with Pyp and Grenn. This time he was teaching them patiently where they went wrong and correcting their form instead of just besting them like he did the day before. The sight made Aranel smile slightly from where he had stopped to watch them and he didn't notice when Tyrion came up beside him to watch as well.

"I've heard talk you do magic with that staff of yours." Tyrion commented, looking up at Aranel who did not jump or show that he had not noticed Tyrion's presence.

"People are wrong." Aranel responded idly after a moment's pause.

"Yes, they often are." Tyrion said with a smile. "I wouldn't have even considered it if I hadn't seen you conjure up that blue flame in Winterfell."

Aranel froze for a moment, too stunned to speak, and it was Tyrion's satisfied smirk that snapped him out of it. "I wasn't aware you were watching."

"Not many people are when I am." Tyrion responded, the smirk fading a little. "So, where did you learn how to do it?"

"Why, would you like to learn?" Aranel asked, raising a silver eyebrow at the man in a questioning manner.

"Me? Please." Tyrion scoffed, shaking his head. Although he reacted that way on the outside, Aranel had seen the glimmer of greed and desire within the dwarf's eyes.

"It was no where in Westeros. I am afraid I am the last of my kind and my tricks will die with me." Aranel said ambiguously, not showing how satisfied he was when he saw the dwarf deflate a little. It wasn't exactly true, well at least not the way he had suggested, but it was all the he would tell anyone; especially someone he didn't trust such as Tyrion, or any Lannister for that matter. They were known for their wealth, greed, and for, unfortunately, their intelligence as well. No, the tricks he knew would do no good in the hands of people such as that.

"Why stay with the boy?" Tyrion asked curiously "Surely someone would pay you handsomely for the skills you have. Not to mention, I've seen you are a competent fighter with that staff even without any tricks."

"Is that a job offer?" Aranel asked, avoiding the question of why he stayed with Jon.

"It could be." Tyrion suggested

"I'm not interested in money, Lord Tyrion." Aranel told him, eyes turning back to the courtyard and the men who were practicing there.

"What are you interested in?" Tyrion asked "Whores? Titles? Surely it can't just be a bastard with the desire to die, his balls freezing, as he defends a wall that has stood for thousands of years."

"My motivations are not yours to know, Lord Tyrion." Aranel said firmly, refusing to be brought into a game of words lest he let something slip unintentionally. The Imp was just as wily as he had imagined he would be and he did not need anyone in King's Landing to hear tales of him and 'magic' that he performed or something may come of it. Nobles were greedy and power hungry, anything they couldn't have or understand must be destroyed because otherwise an enemy might gain it instead.

"It never hurts to ask." Tyrion mused

"Then maybe you've never asked something important enough for someone to hurt you over." Aranel suggested smoothly, not letting the surprise show on his face when Tyrion laughed at his comment.

"Maybe not." Tyrion said, chuckling "I've found that most people prefer money to actually having to work enough to hurt someone though."

"Most people." Aranel agreed quietly, and the two of them remained silent for some time before Aranel left to clean some of the equipment in the Armory as Ser Alliser Thorne had requested of him earlier. The day passed rather uneventfully, with Jon informing him at the end that Benjen was leaving on a mission and would not allow Jon to accompany him. Aranel had joined Jon at the top of the wall during his time to watch so that he would have company during the hours of frigid cold he would have to endure.

"You don't have to be here, you know." Jon said, shivering slightly as the icy wind picked up even more as they patrolled the wall, looking out into the night and towards the forest below.

"What are friends for?" Aranel asked rhetorically before holding his staff out with one hand towards Jon. "Hold my staff for a moment, please."

"Wow." Jon said, arm sagging a little as he took the wooden staff. When Aranel raised an eyebrow in silent question, he explained the reaction. "This is a lot heavier than I thought it would be. Heavier than a sword and a mace, I don't know how you swing it so easily and as quick as you do."

"Practice." Aranel replied, shrugging his shoulders as he dug through his bag to find what he was looking for. Jon, in the meantime, examined the beautiful piece of wood, with it's obsidian ends and intricate carvings, before giving it a few experimental swings. The wood was dense and although Jon knew for a fact, as he had seen it with his own eyes, that Aranel used it to block swords there was not a single mark or chip in the flawless white wood. It led Jon to believe that much like it's owner, there was more than meets the eye when it came to the staff. Jon handed it back to Aranel when he gestured for it, holding out a small square bundle towards Jon in return.

"What is it?" Jon asked, looking at the leaf that was wrapped around something. He unraveled it to glance at the contents and a spicy smell wafted up to his nose when he saw bright red berried sitting in the leaf. "Berries?"

"I call them fire berries, although I have never heard what their real name is." Aranel explained, plucking one out of the leaf and eating it with a smile of satisfaction. Jon copied him, chewing a couple at once, and let out a startled sound when he felt the warmth that traveled through his body, stopping the shiver wracking him for a moment.

"I don't feel cold!" Jon exclaimed, glancing at the berries with a newfound wonder.

"Mm." Aranel agreed, gazing out into the night. The effects of the berries didn't last very long and unfortunately, Aranel didn't have a limitless supply, only a couple more of those kind of packages, but it was enough to enjoy being warm while so high up at least.

"This is amazing. Thank you." Jon said, frowning a little as the warmth slowly seeped from his body before he ate another one. Jon offered the leaf back to Aranel but he shook his head, declining the offer and told him to keep them. A moment later they heard the lift rising and watched as Tyrion Lannister stepped off, walking over to them and informing them he came to say goodbye. Aranel walked a little ways away in order to give Jon a chance to say goodbye to the Dwarf in private, also watching in mild disgust as Tyrion pissed from the top of the wall while Jon just smiled a little and shook his head. The dwarf said a few more words before beckoning Aranel over to him.

"Goodbye, Aranel. I hope you know my offer still stands in the future." Tyrion said, smile a little rueful as he looked at the silver haired boy.

"I doubt I will ever accept, but thank you regardless, lord." Aranel replied dryly

After their brief exchange, Tyrion went back down and Aranel supposed he left to head towards King's Landing to be with his siblings. Jon was looking at him for a moment, a strange look in his eyes, and when Aranel asked him what he was thinking about, he asked what the offer Tyrion made was.

"Money. Whores." Aranel replied blandly, shaking his head. "Nothing of interest to me. I am exactly where I want to be and that will not be changing anytime soon."

Jon was silent for the rest of the time spent on watch as was Aranel. Jon was honestly not sure why he felt glad at Aranel's reply to Tyrion, but eventually he figured out that it was because for whatever reason, Aranel saw something inside Jon Snow that no one else had. He had a desire to follow him, even though he was a bastard with no name or title, and treated him as an equal, a friend. Jon didn't know much about Aranel but he knew that he would eventually, in time, as they got to know one another. Jon knew he could probably ask any question and Aranel would answer, but he wanted Aranel to be the one to offer information about himself. It would feel more noteworthy that way, Jon was sure. He was looking forward to uncovering some of the secrets about his rather mysterious companion, but in the meantime he was just a little thankful he had someone he could trust with him. With Benjen leaving, it would be good to have another friendly face around that he knew and could trust to have his back. Jon promised that night to himself that he would have Aranel's as well, if he needed him too. That was what a friend did, after all, and Jon had told them they would be friends.

 **A/N: As promised, Chapter Four! Let me know what you think.**

 **Also, to the person(you know who you are) who private messaged me and whom I am not going to deem with a response back in a messenger just so that everyone can read this, this is what I think about your opinion. It sucks. This person messaged me saying they hated all of my stories because they had poor plot's and there were a lot of error's in them (spelling, grammar, etc..) and I wanted to remind everyone of something: This is not my job, it is my hobby. I don't have a beta reader and most of the time, I honestly don't read through a chapter after I write it. I post it as soon as I'm done writing it. I don't have an editor and I don't want one; it is a hobby. I'm sorry if it isn't perfect but it doesn't need to be, so if it bothers you that much, don't read the stories. Most of it is little things you can ignore, as far as I'm concerned, but if I see an error I will try to fix it if you point it out to me.**

 **Rant over, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy enough to drop a review ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Tell me about your home." Jon asked Aranel as they walked along the wall, a few days after Benjen had left for the mission to the Haunted Forest. They had been at the Wall for over a month now and Jon had told Aranel that Bran had woken up.

"I have no home." Aranel said passively, making Jon look at him with a hint of exasperation.

"You know what I mean." Jon prodded, eyes sweeping around the night even though with the high winds and snowfall a man could barely see anything even if it had been daylight. "Tell me of where you're from."

"I told you I am from one of the free cities." Aranel said, and Jon nodded to show he remembered. Aranel sighed, he never particularly enjoyed talking about his home, but he knew Jon was only asking to know him better and because he was bored. "There are nine of them in Essos. I am from Volantis, it is the most populated and, before the Century of Blood, the most powerful."

"Which is the most powerful now?" Jon asked, looking at Aranel curiously.

"Braavos, I would say. Volantis still has the biggest land army but Braavos has a larger navy and more influence." Aranel replied "Volantis is ruled by the Triarchs, who are three freeholders that are elected to rule the city."

"The people elect their leaders?" Jon asked, baffled by such a strange concept.

"Oh yes." Aranel said, smiling a little at the expression on Jon's face. "And then, they only rule for one year before another election is held. During the year, the Triarchs are carried on Elephants because their feet are not permitted to touch the ground. One person may be elected Triarch numerous times though and often are."

"How strange." Jon said, thinking about how it would be to have a new leader every year. "It's a wonder they get anything done. What is the city itself like?"

"It's massive." Aranel said, brows furrowing and nose wrinkling in disgust. "For every one man who walks free, there are five slaves. It's the hub of slave trade."

"That's terrible." Jon said, frowning. "Do slaves vote as well for the Triarch?"

"No." Aranel snorted, shaking his head and making his silver hair fly around his face in the wind before it settled again. "You must be a freeholder, which means a person who is not a slave and also holds land."

"Did you..own land?" Jon asked hesitatingly, wondering if Aranel would understand what he was really asking and hoping he wasn't crossing a line with the other man.

"Slaves aren't permitted to own land." Aranel replied softly, not looking at Jon's face so that he did not have to see the pitying look in those onyx eyes. Aranel gazed out towards the night, lost in bad memories, and kept talking almost absentmindedly in a soft voice. "They mark the slaves, on their left cheeks, you know. With a tattoo so that anyone who see's them will know what they are and each job has a different mark. A Fish for fishermen, two crossed hammers for builders.."

"What was your..job?" Jon asked unsurely, his voice quiet even though no one was around to hear him. He instantly regretted asking the question when he saw Aranel's shoulders tense up and his face tighten into a pained look before it smoothed over once again and he relaxed.

"I had a tear on my face, it was shaped kind of like a triangle that pointed downwards." Aranel responded, voice flat and intentionally unemotional as he spoke about it. His throat tightened for a moment as unpleasant memories assaulted his mind but he pushed them down and answered Jon's question. "It was the mark of a pleasure slave. A whore."

Jon winced, eyes downcast, and then looked up at his companion, no his friend, who was looking away from him. His words over the time he had known him, about the way men didn't care if they bed a woman or a man, and his reaction to them made more sense now. "I'm sorry if that was too personal, I don't want to upset you."

"It was a long time ago. I know you were just curious, so don't apologize. I am a free man now so it doesn't bother me what I was in the past. That is not who I am anymore." Aranel told him, turning to meet his eyes steadily. "You can ask me anything you'd like, Jon, as it helps you to get to know me better. I will tell you if I don't want to answer, but this subject, while a hard and somber one, is not forbidden."

"Where is your mark now?" Jon asked him, seeing nothing on his cheek except smooth, unblemished pale skin.

"I burned it off the moment I crossed the narrow sea and was lucky enough to meet someone soon after who could heal it. If it had not been done so quickly, it would have stayed forever most likely. I wouldn't have minded though as long as that wretched mark was gone." Aranel said, his voice more disgusted as he talked about it and remembered the damn thing, the searing heat that accompanied the feeling of freedom, and the first time his feet touched land when he could call himself a free man.

"How did you escape?" Jon asked him

"I-" Aranel hesitated, wondering how Jon would react to the truth but not wanting to lie to the man who he had sworn to protect. "I killed the man who claimed to be my master after he bought me from a pleasure house and as the light left his eyes, I told him no one would ever own me."

Jon was silent for a long moment, obviously mulling over Aranel's words, but it made Aranel nervous that Jon may look down on him for killing the man. Jon finally looked up and gave him what was meant to be a reassuring smile but looked more akin to a grimace than anything else. "He deserved what he got. Is that when you came to Westeros?"

"Yes." Aranel replied, smiling as he remembered the first time seeing the shore after the journey across the Narrow Sea aboard a ship he had smuggled his way onto. "I stole aboard a ship and slipped off as they unloaded their cargo at King's Landing. It was the first city I saw here and I fell in love with this land that day; from there, I made my way north and found the Old Gods. I traveled from town to town for a long time until I finally met you."

"How old were you?" Jon asked him, almost afraid of the answer considering how young the man was now.

"I was thirteen." Aranel said, and Jon frowned when he realized that Aranel had been through more than anyone should have to: being a slave, killing his master, and smuggling aboard a ship to an unknown land all by himself. He did all of this and he was only how old Sansa was now when he did it. That would break most people but here was a man before him who had risen above it and survived anyway. Jon was about to tell him how brave he thought he was, how hard it must have been, and how sorry he was that Aranel had to experience that, but he was cut off by the man himself before he had a chance to say any of it. "Let's not speak about such morbid things. What else do you want to know?"

"What is an elephant?" Jon asked, thinking of what he had heard from Aranel and asking the first thing that came to mind.

Aranel laughed before stopping, drawing a picture of a large creature in the snow with tusks and a huge nose that looked like the trunk of a tree and ears that were enormous. He drew a stick figure of a person next to it in order to show how big they were in comparison to humans and Jon could hardly believe a creature like that existed. They talked for the rest of their time on watch duty, about other strange things Aranel had seen while Aranel asked Jon to tell him stories about his time in Winterfell. Jon found himself telling about the time he broke his arm climbing to get a sword Robb had somehow gotten stuck in a tree and then trying to practice with wooden swords the next day as though nothing was wrong. Maester Luwin had scolded him for weeks and he couldn't sit down properly for an entire day because of how much his rear had hurt from the belt the master of arms had used when he found the tip of the sword ruined. Aranel almost howled with laughter at the thought of a young Jon Snow, properly chastised with his curly hair hanging in his eyes, and trying to fight with a broken arm. He laughed but sobered up when told he was told that Jon had never told anyone that it was Robb who had gotten the sword stuck up there. It reminded him how unfair Jon's life had been simply because his father had a lapse in judgement and yet still Jon had a fierce loyalty to his family, to his siblings. It was truly remarkable to behold.

They ended the watch on an upbeat note, however, and Jon told him about meeting a boy named Samwell Tarly that day who was made fun of by Rast. Aranel asked what he was going to do but only got a small smile in response, and he rolled his eyes good naturedly when he saw the devious look on Jon's face, before warning him not to get in trouble. Jon waved him off, telling him it would be fine, before they went their separate ways. Aranel was walking down the stone corridor that was lit by torches held in by brackets and heading towards his room when he slowed down, noticing that three of the torches had blown out up ahead and then were lit up again as the hall turned and continued towards where his room was. Aranel shrugged off the bad feeling and walked forward, although cautiously, and gripped his staff a little more tightly in his hands.

As he walked into the shadows, as his eyes were adjusting, a hand gripped his staff and he was yanked up against the wall with a larger body pressed against his. He felt disgustingly hot breath down his neck and he attempted to wriggle loose but froze when he felt a dagger pressed against his back

"Now, now. Don't be like that." Rast's voice said quietly, making a shiver run down Aranel's spine. "Come quietly and it might be fun for both of us."

"You can shove that dagger up your ass, you cunt." Aranel growled out, his mind racing as he thought about what he should do. His first thought was to inflict the pain trick, but his mind instantly flashed to the horror, disgust, and disappointment on Jon's face. ' _Promise me you won't use that one anyone else. Promise me.'_

"I was hoping you'd say that." Rast sneered, ramming Aranel's head into the wall none too gently, the force hard enough to make spots appear in his vision.

"Fuck. You." Aranel ground out through gritted teeth before he saw Rast's hand on his staff and got an idea. He mumbled the words that helped with this particular trick and smirked in satisfaction when Rast yelped, his hand getting a shock potent enough to travel up his arm and make him drop the dagger to the ground where it clattered noisily. Aranel yanked the staff away from the would be rapist before spinning around and headbutting him, most likely breaking his nose, and then getting down to where the hallway was lit up by the crackling fire of torches.

"What the hell was that?" Rast asked in an outraged voice, coming down the hall but stopping when he saw Aranel ready to fight with his staff in hand. Aranel whispered the necessary words and blue flames crackled in his hand, further lighting the hallway and illuminating the way all of the blood drained from Rast's face.

"Your worst nightmare if you try anything like that again." Aranel said coldly, glaring the man down with hate in his eyes that would burn even a dragon. "If you tell anyone or try anything ever again, I will kill you. Make no mistake either, no one will find the body and this is something I promise you. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes." Rast muttered fearfully, clutching his bleeding nose with one hand.

"Go." Aranel said, curbing the urge to throw the flames at the disgusting man quivering before him. Rast almost tripped as he walked backwards, wisely refusing to turn his back on Aranel, before he picked up his dagger and bolted down the passageway going in the opposite direction of Aranel's room. When he could no longer hear his footsteps, Aranel breathed out harshly and leaned against the stone wall, white knuckles grasped around his staff as tight as possible, and exterminated the flames. He waited there for a moment, gathering himself and slowing his heartbeat, before making his way to the room he had been assigned and went to bed after ensuring the door was properly locked. The incident with Rast and conversation with Jon about his past made for unsettling dreams, which were in sad fact memories, so his rest was anything but well that night.

* * *

"Princess, Lord Snow." Ser Alliser Thorne greeted them mockingly as they entered the yard to train that day. Aranel rolled his eyes, wondering what had happened to the man to make him get pleasure from mocking those who were stationed beneath him, before walking forward with his staff in hand. Jon and Aranel sparred with one another, both of them sweating by the end of it, but with Jon being the victor. It had been awhile since they had fought because Maester Aemon had been asking a lot of questions of Aranel and had in turn allowed him to read what scrolls he had.

"At least I made you work for it." Aranel commented as Jon lowered the sword pointed at his throat after he surrendered.

"That you did." Jon agreed, flashing him a smile before wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. "Come on, I want you to meet Sam."

Aranel followed Jon to the other side of the yard, where a large man with only wisps of facial hair was standing and awkwardly fighting Grenn. The man looked up when Aranel and Jon came over and the sword loosened in his grip and Grenn disarmed him, but the portly man quickly grabbed it back up, his round cheeks turning a little red from embarrassment. His eyes were trained on Aranel, but flickering between him and Jon.

"Sam Tarly, this is Aranel, a good friend of mine. Aranel, Samwell Tarly, my new friend." Jon introduced the two of them, and Aranel gave Sam a small smile.

"I-I didn't know women were at the wall." Sam said, eyes downcast and causing Grenn to burst out into laughter. Jon gave Grenn a dirty look but Aranel only smiled in understanding.

"If you see one, let me know." Aranel said, the polite smile on his face not faltering when Sam's eyes rose up in shock. "I'm definitely a man."

"I'm sorry!" Sam said, obviously mortified. "It's just that you.. I mean you are-"

"It's fine, Samwell." Aranel said, waving his hand dismissively but elbowing Grenn in the gut to cut off his laughter. "Many people have made the same mistake. I won't hold it against you."

"Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking, your accent doesn't sound familiar." Sam asked

"Aranel's from one of the Free Cities." Jon told him

"What made you join the Night's Watch?" Sam asked Aranel,

"I am not a man of the Night's Watch. I'm an.." Aranel answered, stopping for a moment before the word that Maester Aemon had said previously came to mind. "I'm an advisor, of sorts. I follow orders, I train and clean just like you, but no oath holds me here except one."

"What Oath?" Sam asked, and Aranel looked at Jon who imperceptibly shakes his head, not enough for Grenn or Sam to notice, but enough to let him know that he doesn't want others to know about the oath Aranel swore to him.

"That is between myself and the Old Gods." Aranel replied kindly, before swinging his staff around and facing Grenn. "Now, how about we trade partners for a moment?"

"You and that bloody staff." Grenn grumbled, shaking his head but getting his sword ready anyway. "I still have bruises from the last time you know."

"Move quicker." Aranel suggested, making Jon laugh as Grenn moved forward to strike.

Sam fit into the little group Jon had gathered that consisted of himself, Grenn, Pyp, and Aranel easily enough. Aranel knew the boy didn't have an aggressive bone in his body but he tried hard enough, and that was all that mattered really. Aranel assumed he would be picked as a steward rather than a ranger or a builder, but it was just a guess. Time seemed to fly by at the wall, the days and nights cold. They took turns patrolling the wall during watch, cleaning the 'castle', cooking food, and of course training. Before Aranel had realized it, another month had passed and it was the day that the 'recruits' were going to be assigned their jobs. Aranel knew Jon was excited to be called a ranger and finally be able to go north of the wall, but Jon had been brooding ever since Benjen's horse had come to Castle Black with no rider in the saddle. It was an ill omen and Aranel was sure that Jon was itching to attempt to go find Benjen, or at the least find out what happened to the body for the First Ranger. If Aranel was being honest, he was getting restless as well just staying here and could do with a bit of exploring or scouting. Anything really besides the mindless routine that was only broken up by conversation with his new friends and Maester Aemon's questions about his tricks. The Maester insisted on calling it magic and wondered why it was so strong in Aranel when it had all but left the world. Aranel didn't have an answer except to say magic may have left the world, but what he did wasn't magic; it was just tricks. Explaining that to the good Maester was a headache inducing conversation and they went around in circles often enough.

"What do you mean it is tricks?" Maester asked for the umpteenth time in mild frustration.

"The world and everything in it has energy inside of it." Aranel explained again patiently, wondering when the Maester was going to stop asking the same questions when he knew he would get the same answers. That was the definition of insanity, after all. "I just borrow some of it to use a trick."

"Then what are the words you use, the spells for?" Maester Aemon asked

"It's not a spell! Somethings are just more complicated and so I have to explain what I need." Aranel responded

"Bah! It's magic." Maester Aemon said in his gravelly voice, throwing his hands up slightly and then taking a drink of his wine. Aranel rolled his eyes, knowing that the Maester wouldn't be able to see it and then asked to be excused. "You want to be there when they get their assignments, I reckon?"

"Yes, Maester." Aranel responded

"Very well, very well. Go on then." Maester Aemon dismissed him, and Aranel grinned before picking up his staff from where it was propped against the wall and heading to the training yard where the men were gathering. Lord Commander Mormont was standing on a raised platform made of wood with his scroll in hand listing off where people were going to be assigned.

"..Ranger. Samwell Tarly, Steward. Jon Snow, Steward. Rast, Ranger…" Lord Commander Mormont was saying just as Aranel entered. Aranel searched for Jon's face in the gathering of men and winced internally when he saw the outraged and slightly betrayed look on his face. Jon knew he was the best fighter out of the recruits and Aranel himself was wondering what exactly Mormont was playing at by keeping him as a steward. It was Sam that figured it out eventually, telling Jon that Mormont wanted him as his personal steward and was most likely grooming him to take over as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

"I'm the best fighter they have yet they put me on the sidelines." Jon ranted, a scowl on his face as he spoke to Aranel while they were on watch duty together a couple of days later. "He would have me fetch his breakfast and read his messages to him when I should be out there, scouting and fighting as a Ranger. Trying to find my Uncle Benjen."

"I'm sorry, Jon." Aranel said, unsure of what else to say to attempt to console that man. "I don't understand why Lord Commander did what he has, but I believe Samwell is right. Look at the people you have gathered already after a mere two months of being here, you have the talent to be a leader."

"I don't want to lead anyone." Jon said frustratedly "I'm just a bastard who wanted to get honor, maybe become First Ranger like my Uncle. Now, I don't even know if he is alive or dead. I don't know why you stay here when you could leave."

"Yes you do." Aranel replied patiently "I don't care if we have to sit up on this wall for the next forty years until we are frozen solid. I'd stay here anyway."

"You are too loyal." Jon sighed, the anger leaving him in an instant leaving only a tired resentment in its wake. "I just feel useless."

"It will get better. Just have patience and faith." Aranel told him consolingly.

The rest of the watch was spent in companionable silence, both lost in thoughts they didn't voice. Aranel knew that soon enough they might all be in danger if what the wildlings the Night's Watch had stopped from crossing the wall was true. White Walkers could be roaming free again and this was not something to be taken lightly, especially when they had less than a thousand men. It certainly made more sense why Aranel was allowed to stay here, they were hoping to use him as a weapon against them it case it was true; they hoped his tricks would succeed where a sword would not. Aranel wasn't sure if that was the case or not, but he would do whatever he had to in order to keep Jon Snow safe from harm. Thinking of Jon Snow, it made sense with the impending danger that Mormont would want a second in command, to take over in case he died. Obviously, he saw something in Jon that he found worthy enough to lead the men under his command. At the end of their watch, right before the lift brought them back down to warm fire and beds, Aranel stared out into the night and sent a silent prayer to the Old Gods. There were many forces in this world, some for good and some for what people would consider evil. Some are greater than Aranel, this he knew, and against some he had not yet been tested. He fears for the day that he won't be enough. The hand ghost at found when Jon and Sam went to the godswood those few days ago was an omen of things to come, but what things Aranel was unsure.

 **A/N: So I realized the timeline was a little messed up so I went back and kind of tried to fix it, I forgot that even though it seemed like a few days it was actually like months that all of the stuff in the show happened… Well, this is the fifth chapter and I hope you enjoy!**

Ofgchey: Thank you for the kind words of encouragement! I appreciate it and this chapter is being put up so fast because of you :) so thank you!

Orionastro: Thank you for the reviews! I am not sure how Aranel would know to save Ned Stark and children from King's Landing. His attention is all on the North and Jon Snow, as well as what is coming up there; he isn't a greenseer, so he doesn't get visions of the future, so unfortunaetly things will most likely go to canon for those characters for now.

Cambm12: I am glad you liked the idea! As for Craster, well.. You'll just have to see. After this chapter, I think you'll agree that he might rub Aranel the wrong way on many levels! :) Keep reviewing! Thank you!

Ougley: I'm glad you are interested! There are not enough OMC's on fanfiction and I have been writing four at the same time to attempt and rectify that. I have always searched for stories with them, and where the main character was homosexual in nature, but there are a huge lack of them. So I figured, fuck it; I'm just going to write my own damn stories.

Thank you all for the kind words and thoughts! I can't believe it, but with all of the stories I have written, in a month I have posted over 120,000 words to this site.. Which is kind of unbelievable. Keep posting reviews because it really does encourage me to write more, write faster, and therefore update sooner!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Aranel looked left and right down the hallway to make sure no one was around but the corridor was empty, with the only sounds being the crackle of fire in torches and the howling of the wind. He knocked on the door quietly and waited until it cracked open a little bit to reveal the face of Jon Snow, a confused look on his face that cleared up when he saw Aranel standing outside. He gestured for Aranel to come into the room before quietly shutting the door and turning to face the silver haired man.

"Thorne is an ass." Aranel said, sitting down in one of the chairs pressed up against a wall opposite of the warm, bright fire burning inside the room.

"You're telling me something I already know." Jon said, making a disgusted sound in the back of his throat at the mention of the other man. Earlier today, two bodies of Night's Watch men were found and were suspiciously devoid of any kind of odor or rot, which Samwell Tarly had been the one to point out. Not long afterwards, Jon and Alliser Thorne had gotten into it again which led to Jon being locked up in his quarters, so after he cleaned the armory, Aranel snuck up here to see Jon before heading to bed himself. "What do you think of the bodies?"

"I'm not sure." Aranel replied, frowning a little bit at the mention of Jafer and Othor Flowers, the two bodies they had found near the wall. "Maester Aemon wants me to come examine them tomorrow morning before he burns the bodies. I'm not sure what they expect to be found, however."

"They should've burned the bodies right away." Jon said, eyebrows pulling tight. "It gives me a bad feeling to know they are still here in the Castle."

"I thought it was just me." Aranel admitted after a moment. He had felt a strange, cold dread since they had found the two bodies but attributed it to overreacting. Hearing Jon say that he had the same thought made him think twice about it.

"Something wasn't right about them." Jon said "and am I crazy for thinking that the hand we found and my Uncle's disappearance - that it's all connected, somehow?"

"Stranger things have happened." Aranel said, musing over that idea. It's true that he could be seeing connections where there were not any; either because he wanted to find his Uncle or because he wanted to contribute something so he didn't feel useless. The idea has merit, however, because from what Aranel could remember the hand Ghost found near the weirwood tree was not rotting either.

"I think we shou-" Jon started to say, frowning when he noticed Ghost pawing at the door. Aranel and Jon exchanged a glance before Jon opened the door to let the direwolf out and soon both Aranel and Jon were following it down the hallway. They walked down a couple of corridors before they came to the Lord Commander's room, where Ghost sat down in front of the door and Jon frowned.

"Go check it out. I'll wait, call if you need me." Aranel whispered, frowning. Animals had better instincts than humans by a longshot, so if something was bothering Ghost enough to lead them here at this time of night, it was worth checking out. Jon nodded his agreement and opened the door and Aranel turned instantly when he heard Jon drawing his sword. Looking over his shoulder Aranel saw both Jafer and Othor, standing upright and wandering towards what looked to be a door on the other side of the room.

"They don't look very dead to me!" Aranel shouted, alarmed, just as Jon stabbed Othor in the gut with his sword. Othor's dead body didn't even blink, but it did turn it's ice blue eyes, clouded over just like a corpse eyes, onto Jon.

"You don't say!" Jon said back, sarcastically, before ducking as the corpse swung at him. Aranel cursed himself a fool for leaving his staff in his room before gathering energy in his hands. This was going to take a hell of a lot of energy for this trick. Jon cut off one of the creature's hands, which still crawled on the floor even after being detached, and kept trying to fend it off. The air was crackling around Aranel as he gathered the lightning in his hand and his palm lit up as the blue electricity formed.

"Jon, duck now!" Aranel yelled out, waiting until Jon was clear before shooting the lightning out of his hand and smiling in satisfaction as it left a hole the size of a fist where his heart was. The satisfied look on his face quickly turned to horror when he realized it barely made the creature blink. Jon and Aranel were both distracted for a second as Mormont came into the room, a lantern in his hand lighting up the dim atmosphere, and Aranel kicked out at Jafer when he saw the walking corpse coming up to him. Jon slid past Othor to get between him and Mormont before he had an idea and grabbed the lantern from Mormont's hands and breaking it on the creature, making it's shoulder go up in flames. Aranel, getting the idea, strung the necessary words together and released the energy necessary to make the vile thing go up in flames. Jon called out a warning to Aranel as Jafer staggered back upright and Aranel gestured towards Othor's flaming body before causing some of the flames to move onto Jafer, then engulfing him in much the same manner. The two former men of the Night's Watch stopped moving as the fire consumed them and Aranel relaxed a little, blinking blearily. Aranel brought his fingers to his nose unconsciously, bringing them back to stare at what was on them, and seeing bright, ruby red blood staining the fingers on his left hand. Aranel crumpled a little from the whiplash from expending that much energy with just his body as a focus, instead of his staff, and hit the hard floor made of stone on his knees hard. The last thing he vaguely remembered was hearing Jon say his name, tone panicked, before black overcame his vision and he passed out completely.

* * *

 _A twelve year old silver haired boy, with short jagged hair that appeared as though it had been hacked off with a dagger rather than cut, walked into the dim room and scanned occupants inside. Without a shirt on, as a lot of the slaves were meant to walk about, you could see the bottom two bones of his ribcage poking out from lack of food. There were rows of flimsy beds covered in stained sheets lining the walls, each one with a little boy or girl occupying it. Aranel's pale green eyes scouted the room looking for a head of dark hair that belonged to the older boy he was searching for. His eyes narrowed when he saw him, laying back and breathing shallowly, and he cautiously approached the bed._

" _Aranel." The boy gasped when he saw him, his blue eyes wide and fearful. "You have to leave tonight. I overhead Master Lincyon speaking with one of the men."_

 _Aranel drew closer, delicate features scrunched together in worry at the rattling cough coming from the other boy. "Thane?"_

" _I-I'm okay." Thane said, shaking his head. "He's going to sell you, Aranel. To Pison, you know how he is. You'll be dead within three years, you have to get out of here tonight before he comes to get you in the morning."_

" _Wha-What about you, Thane! We are supposed to go together." Aranel whispered, eyes casting wildly around to make sure no one overheard them talking. If a slave informed on another slave's plan to escape, they were rewarded with actual meat, cheese, and ale. It was a rare pleasure that some took advantage of as often as possible. "I won't leave you. He'll know you helped me.. You'll die."_

" _You need to go, don't worry about me." Thane coughed, blood coming from his lungs and covering the already soiled scrap of cloth he used to cover his mouth. "I can't go with you tonight, I won't make it far enough. Not with the shape I'm in."_

" _I won't do it." Aranel said stubbornly, shaking his head firmly. He wouldn't just leave Thane behind, he was his brother. "Father told you to look after me, but I look after you too and I won't leave you. I won't!"_

 _The room got silent as Aranel screamed the last part before the other slaves cautiously started their conversations back up. Aranel's tense frame didn't relax at all though because he knew that bringing that kind of attention to yourself was dangerous. Aranel got a wet cloth and wiped his brother's forehead, where he could feel the fever burning, and then cleaned up the dried blood around his lips. "I'll find a way to get away from him. I'll be okay, but you can't take a beating like this, Thane. I won't let you."_

" _You stubborn fool." Thane said quietly, shaking his head but giving his little brother a relieved smile when he brought the cup of water to his mouth while cupping the back of his head so he could take a drink and ease the pain of his dry throat. The water was a dingy color but it was the best that they got while in their quarters, so it would have to do._

 _Aranel cared for him for a few more hours, making sure he drank as much water as possible so he wouldn't be dehydrated, before the Overseer's lackeys came to get him for a bath. They brought him to the scorching hot tub and leered at him as he stripped his clothes, his self consciousness about being naked all but nonexistent now, and then he gasped as his skin touched the almost boiling water. They made him scrub his skin until it was red and raw, the once clear fresh water was now almost brown from all the dirt that had covered him, and the only thing he could think was that it was such a waste of clean water. Next, they had him put some kind of lotion on his skin to soften in and take away some of the rawness. When he was done, he smelt better and felt cleaner than he could remember being his entire life._

 _They led Aranel back to the quarters for the last night he would be staying there and told him not to get any funny ideas because Lord Pison would be there in the morning to take him away. Aranel felt numb from that reminder and his clothes felt extremely scratchy on his freshly scrubbed skin. Thane was asleep when Aranel got back but he woke him in order to force him to eat the rations they had gotten for that night, which tasted like ash, and he fed his brother his portion as well as Thane's. Thane was so delirious with fever at this point that he barely noticed, chewing and swallowing mechanically in between gasping breaths and coughs. He made him drink as much water as he could before gently scooting him over and sliding onto the bed next to him, curling up to his side and watching his chest go up and down while listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. Aranel couldn't sleep that night, too afraid to let even a precious second go of the time that he had left with his brother, just in case he would never see Thane again. When he knew that daybreak was coming, Aranel slipped out of the bed without waking him and kissed Thane's forehead before walking to the door and being led away to meet his new master._

 _Lord Pison was a fat man with only a little hair and a thick moustache curled on both sides that looked misplaced on his face. He had a weak chin with squinty eyes that inspected Aranel thoroughly, making him strip naked where he stood to inspect his hairless body. Finally, after what seemed hours but was truly a half hour at best, he allowed Aranel to put a loincloth on and paid Master Lincyon for him. Lord Pison brought out a rope leash that he put around Aranel's neck and then started marching him towards the door._

" _What about my clothes, sir?" Aranel asked timidly, gesturing to the pile of rags on the floor._

" _You are a hole to be fucked. A body to be beat. You have no purpose in this life." Pison sneered, face contorting in rage at the fact that Aranel had spoken. He reared back a ring covered hand and smacked Aranel with the back of his hand so hard the rings cut his cheek and he fell to the floor. Lord Pison dragged him up using the leash, shortening it in his hands, until Aranel stood on his tiptoes to avoid being strangled. "Worthless things like you don't need clothes. I own you now, boy. You have no name, no family, no purpose in this world anywhere except to shut up and do as you are told."_

 _Aranel remained silent, his body shaking in rage and fear, wondering if he should have listened to his brother and ran last night. Aranel stopped that thought the minute it crossed his mind, refusing to even consider abandoning his brother. If he died, at least he had given his brother the best shot at living that he could have. Now, he would have to find a way to get away from the sadistic new owner and come back for Thane._

 _Lord Pison marched him through the streets, keeping a harsh pace so that his much shorter legs had to jog to keep up, which was hard to do considering he had not eater since yesterday morning. At one point, Aranel had tripped in his rush and Lord Pison dragged him by the rope, the harsh cord burning and chafing around his neck, and he hurriedly got up as fast as he could. Regardless, there would be a circular bruise around his neck tomorrow._

 _When they finally arrived at their destination, a stone building two stories high with the most luxurious furniture Aranel had ever seen, Lord Pison shoved him inside unceremoniously. Pison shoved him down stairs that was most likely led down to a cellar below the first story, laughing as he tumbled down them, and the called down for him to strip off the loincloth and kneel on the mat in front of the fire until Pison came down there. Aranel climbed gingerly to his feet, wincing as he tried to put pressure on his left foot and found it had most likely twisted during the fall, and then froze in horror as he gazed around the dark room with the fire as the only source of light. There was a cage in the corner that was made for a dog, chains dangling from the ceiling, and in a locked cabinet was a variety of knives that you could see through bars and glass. The floor felt odd as he walked to the center and it was then that he realized it was because the stone floor was slanted, the entire room angling downwards, so that any liquid would flow straight to the drain in the center. Looking at the rust colored stains on the stone, it did not take a genius to figure out what sort of liquid would be draining from the room. Aranel swallowed dryly before taking notice of the mat sitting innocently in front of the fire. At first glance, it was a mat to ensure one didn't have to sit on the hard stone, but he could see the fire making the mat glint. Putting a cautious foot on it, he reared back with a hiss when he felt the tiny needles stab into his foot. It took ten minutes to force himself into a kneeling position on the mat, knowing there would be a far worse punishment if he ignored his command, and waited for two hours before the man came down._

 _Lord Pison chuckled darkly when he saw him, the blood coating the mat and staining Aranel's pale skin, before walking over to him. Aranel didn't give any sign of knowing he was there besides the tensing of his shoulders, though he tried to keep his lower half from tensing in order to not hurt himself anymore. Lord Pison pushed Aranel forward with his foot suddenly, giving him no time to prepare, and Aranel caught himself with his hands. He hissed out in pain as the needles pushed into his hands and drew blood, making Pison almost growl in satisfaction. Aranel heard the rustling of fabric and suddenly Pison was entering him, no preparation or warning given, and Aranel screamed at the intrusion of the man's length. He was left by himself, curled up and naked, on the stone floor and passed out from the pain._

 _It was two weeks before an opportunity presented itself. Pison was making Aranel perform actions with his mouth and had closed his eyes for a second, so Aranel bit down as hard as he could on the manhood and pushed the other man back into the fire. Aranel scrambled even as he heard Pison scream, first in pain and then anger._

" _I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" Lord Pison screamed at the top of his lungs, and Aranel cursed his useless legs as he tried to climb the stairs. He had lost a lot of blood over the course of two weeks and the food he had been given was just enough to stay alive. Aranel heard the sound of glass shattering and felt his heart leap into his throat when he got to the door and reached for the knob. When he turned it, there was resistance halfway, and Aranel cursed loudly in despair. It was locked. It was locked and he neither had the key nor the strength it would take to break down the wood door. Aranel turned around and crept down the stairs, trying to listen for Pison, but it had gone eerily quiet. He got to the bottom and saw him standing there, a maniacal look on his face, and burn marks on his face that were bubbling up. A good portion of the ridiculous mustache had burned away and it made for a disconcerting sight; Pison moved his hand and Aranel's pale, green eyes narrowed on the knife clutched in his hand._

" _What now, pet?" Lord Pison asked dangerously, moving slightly toward him and making Aranel sidle closer to the side of the room where the cabinet with the knives was laying open and broken, glass covering the floor. "I'm going to enjoy killing you. Then I'm going to cut off your little cock, cook it, and feed it to the next piece of worthless property I buy. You are nothing to me or anyone else in this world. I am going to enjoy killing you, my pet."_

 _Lord Pison lunged at Aranel, who twisted to the side and dived at a piece of glass lying on the floor a few spaces away beside the cabinet. He wrapped his fingers around the sharp and jagged piece of clear glass, uncaring of how it cut into his already beat up hands, and screamed out in fury and pain as a dagger was lodged into his back and twisted inside nastily. Aranel used the last of his strength and turned to jam the piece of glass into Lord Pison's throat, watching in satisfaction as he tried to speak and only a gurgling sound came out followed shortly by blood. His eyes wide in the fear of knowing his death was coming soon, Aranel was the one to laugh, in pain and shock, not giving a damn about how it jostled the knife that was still sticking out of his back. Aranel leaned forward, getting eye level with the man who had committed some of the most heinous acts imaginable to him, and said as slowly and clearly as he could in order to treasure every word coming out of his mouth as though it were one of the sweets his brother used to steal and give to him before messing up his hair fondly._

" _No man owns me. No one will EVER own me."_

* * *

Aranel woke with a gasp, sweat covering him, and looked to find a startled Samwell Tarly sitting next to the bed he was lying in. Sam jerked up, shocked, and then smiled widely.

"You're up!" Sam said, eyes lighting up ever so slightly. Aranel blinked blearily, wondering what the hell happened, before remembering the dead bodies were walking and then himself and Jon-

"Jon! Where is Jon?" Aranel asked frantically, ripping the covers off of his body and shooting out of bed. He wobbled on his feet for a moment, dizziness striking him as the blood left his head, and he shook his head to try and clear it.

"Aranel, you should be laying dow-" Samwell started to say, a concerned look on his face and hands held out placatingly as though he were approaching a wild animal.

"Where. Is. Jon." Aranel asked, gritting his teeth and then feeling remorse shoot through him like a hot flash as he saw the hurt look on Sam's face. He ignored it though in order to begin striding unsteadily towards the door "Sam, where is Jon? Is he hurt? I have to see him."

The door he was moving towards flew open and Aranel almost collapsed in relief when he saw Jon standing in the doorway, Ghost right behind him, and not a single, curly hair on his head was out of place. Aranel relaxed just a tiny bit and then scowled as his legs gave way. Jon swooped in and caught him, maneuvering him towards the bed easily, and pushing him down onto it. Aranel's eyes were still scanning every inch of Jon, making sure he wasn't hiding an injury anywhere, but everything looked alright. At least, there was nothing life threatening if he was moving around.

"Calm down." Jon commanded gently, a hand still on his chest. Aranel was sure he could feel his rapidly beating heart, hammering inside his chest, but felt it slow down slightly when Jon's words washed over him. Jon gave him a disapproving look, but Aranel just grinned a little stupidly back at him.

"You're alright?" Aranel asked, looking into his onyx eyes with his own pale, green orbs focused intently.

"Am I alright?" Jon asked, disbelief written all over his face. It was then replaced with anger and Aranel winced as Jon's voice raised a little. "You've been unconscious for two days! You were screaming bloody murder at the top of your lungs for two hours straight yesterday but you ask me if I'M alright?"

"I'm fine." Aranel said dismissively, knowing he had passed out from using too much energy for those tricks. The lightning trick takes a lot out of him considering Aranel was generating it from nothing, but it's one of the strongest things in his arsenal he can use without the staff as a focus point. It didn't do anything, though, so next time it would have to be fire.

"You're fine?" Jon repeated back as a question voice sceptical and a scowl firmly planted on his face. His voice softened a little, as did his eyes, and Aranel awkwardly avoided them after that. "You didn't seem fine. I thought you.. Hell, I don't know what I thought."

"I'm fine." I repeated reassuringly, hesitatingly glancing up at him and clapping him on the side of the arm in a friendly manner. "Don't worry so much, you'll get as many wrinkles as Maester Aemon."

"Sam, can you grab him some food really quick?" Jon asked his friend, who turned to leave the room and do as was requested. He stopped before leaving, turning to tell me that he was glad I was okay, and I thanked him with a smile.

"So, what happened to the bodies?" Aranel asked as the door closed, looking at Jon with an expectant face.

"Are you insane?" Jon asked, eyebrows raising slightly. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I shouldn't have used the trick I did without my staff." Aranel admitted, shrugging his shoulder to try and make it as small of a deal as he could. "It took a lot out of me and I needed to get the energy back, it's why I was out for two days."

"Why were you screaming?" Jon asked next, his voice hesitant, as though he wasn't sure he should be asking. Aranel felt awkward, always hating the dreams that plagued me, but he knew Jon wouldn't see him any differently for it. He might even feel better knowing it was something as stupid as a dream.

"It was.. An unpleasant dream." Aranel answered, eyes down on the sheets covering the lower half of his body. He was dressed in soft, black clothes that he didn't recognize and then realized it must have been Jon's clothing because it was a little big on Aranel.

"A nightmare?" Jon asked quietly

"A memory." Aranel corrected, voice straining just a little as he recalled it. That one had been.. More vivid, than they usually were. He hadn't had one that bad in over four years.

"I-" Jon broke off, seeming to want to say something but not at the same time. Aranel saw the look of determination on his face that told him he was hardening his resolve; it was the same look he had gotten when he heard his Uncle was mission, when he had accepted Aranel's oath, when he had come to terms with being Mormont's steward. "I saw the scars. I was changing you. The clothes were.. Ruined. I saw them, and I'm sorry, and Sam did as well."

"It's alright." Aranel said awkwardly, truthfully unaware of what he should say. He didn't mind them seeing, he would have preferred them not to, but he was unconscious and they had made a judgement call. He couldn't fault them for that, especially when he would've done the same thing. "It's not a big deal, I don't mind."

"Not a big dea-?" Jon asked, his pain filled voice cutting off for a moment. "Aranel, they burned you. They did horrible things to you. You were thirteen years old. That is not okay."

"I'm alive." Aranel said, shrugging. "There's no sense in getting upset about it. It's done and over with, a part of my life I've put behind me, and I will never go back there. I will die first."

"I don't understand you." Jon admitted, a wry grin on his lips in response to the grin that stretched across my face at his admission.

"I'm glad you're okay." Aranel said, his face and tone serious once more. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been."

"We were lucky. We'll have to remember fire does the trick and to burn all bodies from now on. That was pretty terrifying." Jon said, a far off look in his eyes as he talked about that night. "I have to go back to Mormont, I'll come visit after I see what he wants. You get some more rest after you eat, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Aranel said, waving him away carelessly. "Don't count on it. I've slept two days, do you want me getting lazy?"

"Just try." Jon sighed defeatedly, seemingly resigned to Aranel's stubbornness. He got up and walked towards the door, before stopping and looking Aranel over one more time.

"Hey, Aranel?" Jon asked, an intense look in his eyes that made Aranel shiver slightly.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you are okay as well." Jon said, nodding at him before opening the door and walking out. The soft, surprised smile that came on Aranel's face stared there until Samwell came back with a plate of food, ready to force feed him if necessary. Aranel decided that day that even though it was a lot of trouble and sometimes it hurt more than it would have without, it was good to have friends.

 **A/N: Chapter six! Woohoo! You guys get to learn a little more about Aranel's backstory and see Jon being a little worried ;) Also, I am re watching GoT season one and two right now to refresh my memory so I don't forget important stuff and so that I get the timeline right. It will follow canon for awhile and then diverge off of it the further on the story goes. Thank you! Let me know what you think!**

 **Review!**


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